


Bread Wolf Bake You

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan (Non-Canon AUs) [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern Era, it's a thing, solas owns a bakery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 88,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A silly joke that spawned a modern AU. Solas owns a bakery. It's a simple enough way to quietly observe those around him - after all, people in positions of power care little about a simple servant providing the indulgences for their get-togethers. Despite his ulterior motives, he finds himself rather fixated on a mysterious woman who regularly comes into his shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asha'is

**Author's Note:**

> All because of [this post](http://geeky-jez.tumblr.com/post/116750865988/bread-wolf-fenharel). [Fadenerdsnark](http://fadenerdsnark.tumblr.com/) gets kudos for elaborating on the idea in a way that I couldn't resist.

He knew the contours of her face well-enough by now that he could call them up from memory. The straight slope of her nose. High cheekbones. Green eyes, narrow and angled in such a manner that they gave her relaxed features the appearance of smiling. Her dark skin was perfection, save for the tattoos that marked her as one of the isolationists. Traditionalists clinging to a false idea of their own tradition. A pity.

Still, it was odd to see one of her kind in the city - and she came into his shop nearly every day.

He’d studied her routine. Solas could never predict precisely when she would appear, but the rest of her manner was virtually unchanging. She always entered with a drink from the cafe down the road, steam still slipping through the top of the disposable cup each time she pushed through the door. She never appeared tempted by the various frilly cakes or tarts, displays filled with such color and variety that most would waste far too much of his time hemming and hawing while he waited for them to make a decision. She always ordered the same thing - a simple bradh sweetened with cinnamon and drizzled with honey. She would sit at the small table in the corner of his shop and read as she ate. He’d go about his work, silently watching as she’d brush thick strands of cream-colored hair from her face, pressing small pieces of the pastry distractedly past her lips, carefully suckling her fingertips before turning each page. When she was done, she’d flash him a smile, pleasantly wish him a good day and leave.

He still didn’t know her name. 

Today, she’d been interrupted by a phone call. He didn’t hear much of the conversation, though he’d been listening intently. She sounded irritated as she slipped into broken Elvish, addressing the caller as hahren. A person in authority. A parent, possibly, judging by her tone. She was still talking as she gathered her things, awkwardly nudging the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she stood. She still stole a moment to glance over to him, her look of annoyance breaking briefly into a smile before she was gone. 

He did not notice the book still sitting on the table until well after she’d left.

He brushed flour from his hands before picking it up, peering at the title.

_The People Before the Dales: An Overview of Elvhen Language and Culture by Gisharel and Elindra Ralaferin, Forward by Ferdinand Genetivi._

Ralaferin. Isolationists. Odd for a human publisher to produce a text written from such a source - yet the addition of Genetivi’s name suggested he probably had a hand at lending their historical veracity some credibility. Laughable on both fronts, in his opinion. 

Did this mean she was a student? They were not far from the University. It would explain her frequent stops into his shop. Though he found her age somewhat difficult to determine, she appeared too old to be an undergrad and too young to be a professor. A graduate student, perhaps? It would explain the nature of the text. The material was rather dense. 

He flipped open the pages curiously. He cared little for what was written there. Instead, he looked for clues. He saw a University stamp along the inside of the front cover. A library book. That confirmed one suspicion. He slipped out the paper she’d been using to mark her place. It was a flyer promoting a lecture series hosted by the library. Topics included archaeological finds in the Anderfels, the melding of cultural and religious ideologies in Rivain, and a debate between First Enchanters Gwenael and Haramund over the practice of necromancy. The paper was folded in half with a note written across the back.

_Coffee later? We need to talk. Dorian._

There was familiarity in the note. Not the way someone would propose a first date, suggesting they were on closer terms than that. There was a minor twinge that he quickly dismissed. A friend, he could only assume. Possibly a lover, though unlikely. It was a human name. While the tattoos on her face did not preclude such a pairing, it did make it far less likely. Solas recognized that he should care little about such details, either way. 

There was a second note at the bottom, written by a different hand. It was scrawled quickly - likely the page was used as a convenience twice over to jot down the information. A phone number with the initials C. S. R. Not enough to go off of unless he decided to look up the number. Without further context, it told him nothing about her or its significance. 

“Enjoying some light reading?”

He glanced up as she poked her head back into his shop, her brow arched as she clutched her drink. He slipped the paper back into place, closing the book as she approached. 

“Somewhat informative,” he said simply, handing it over as she held out her hand. “I did not take you for a student.”

Her smile slipped into a playful smirk as she shrugged. “I’m not.” 

His eyes narrowed, curious, intrigued and yet she did not elaborate. She carefully placed the book in her bag, readjusting it on her shoulder. “A teacher, perhaps?”

Her lips pursed, apparently amused. “You assume I wasn’t reading it for pleasure?”

“Most people would not choose academic tomes as a source of entertainment.”

“Then maybe I’m not most people.” She brought her drink to her lips, studying him a moment before backing away to the door. “See you around.” He nodded, watching as she turned and left, hair caught in the breeze as she stepped briskly down the sidewalk and disappeared from view.

He still didn’t know her name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Asha'is - mysterious woman.... assuming I translated that right. (credit: project elvhen)
> 
> When I first wrote this, I didn't intend for it to be a series - in part, because I'm already struggling to get my other long fics updated on any kind of regular schedule, given that I have the DA BB and two fics running all at the same time. But I'm rather attached to this notion. If there is enough interest, there will be updates in the future - I just can't guarantee how quickly they will show up until I've wrapped up at least one of my other projects.


	2. Lan'sila

“When is your shift over?”

“Four,” Dorian answered, his voice sounding strangely tinny through the poor reception. “Why? Are you trying to bum a ride again?”

“Very funny,” Isii said, eyes narrowing as she shifted her grip on her phone. She walked at a brisk pace, her boots clicking against the sidewalk. “Want to catch an early dinner?”

“Oh? You finally found time to pencil me in? I should feel honored.”

“I don’t need your sass,” she said with a laugh. “You know I’ve been crazy busy. In any case, my plans for tonight were cancelled.”

“Deshanna finally letting you off of your leash for a bit?”

She scoffed, stealing a sip of her tea. Still too hot. “She didn’t give a reason why. Something’s come up. No complaints from me, though. She’s had me scrambling to get ready for La Conférence Internationale. I honestly don’t think she has much faith in me at this point with how much she’s worrying.”

“Apparently she has faith that you’ll make an ass of yourself.”

“Wow. Such a vote of confidence, Dorian. I’m touched.”

“I’m merely speaking in terms of her opinion, not mine. I’m sure everything will go swimmingly.”

“As long as we’re not laughed out of the room by a bunch of self-righteous shems. No offense.”

“None taken.”

She angled the phone against her shoulder as she neared the door to the bakery, reaching for the handle. She saw the baker’s eyes lift briefly before returning his attention to the woman who was standing beside him behind the counter. “You probably don’t want me taking up the rest of your break. Should I head over to the library once you’re off work or not?”

“Sure. The usual spot.”

“Cool. See you then.” She heard the disconnecting click as she nudged the door closed with her backside, carefully balancing her tea as she brought the phone down from her ear. The baker looked irritated - his eyes narrowed, brow lowered, small creases etched into the bridge of his nose as he spoke. She got the distinct impression that he had lowered his tone in an attempt not to yell at the girl in front of a customer. 

“You need to fix the displays.”

The blond elf scrunched up her nose, frowning. “What’s wrong with ‘em?”

“You can’t simply toss the items loosely in a tray and call it a day. They need to be laid out in an orderly fashion. Far too much effort goes into making them look appetizing for you to then present them as if they were refuse.”

A sharp  _pffft_ escaped the girl’s lips before she tugged off her apron. “I’m taking my break,” she said, walking briskly into the back room, grumbling something about cookies. He stormed after her a few short steps.

“You can’t just-” He halted, letting out a slow breath before turning to face Isii. “Apologies,” he said curtly, automatically reaching down to retrieve her usual bradh. They’d gotten to the point where she didn’t even have to ask anymore.

“New hire?” she asked quietly.

“Not working out well, I’m afraid.” He reached for a plate, setting the pastry down before ringing her up. 

“Sorry. Can I get that to go this time? Can’t stay.”

He hesitated a moment before nodding, silently wrapping it in parchment paper and slipping it into a bag. “I have something for you, if you are interested,” he said absentmindedly, returning to the register. 

She arched her brow as she handed over her payment. “Oh?”

He hummed affirmatively, counting out her change. “A moment,” he murmured, stepping into the back. She let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking her head as she quietly dropped her change into the tip jar. He re-emerged holding a book. Her eyes narrowed curiously. 

“Consider it a loan. I thought it might be of interest to you.” The book was older, a well-worn hardcover titled _Elvhenan: A Study of What Remains_.

“That’s rather thoughtful,” she said with a smile, slipping it into her purse. “Thank you. I’ll have to give it a look.” She glanced down at her watch before grabbing the paper bag with her bradh. She gave her usual well-wishes and he responded in kind as she hurried out the door.

* * *

 

Isii stuffed the leftovers from dinner into the fridge, dropping down onto her couch with a heavy sigh. She was more than tired. The past few weeks had been wearing on her. Even so, she was still hopeful. If all went well, it would mean huge changes for her people - an achievement she could be proud of that would make all of this stress worthwhile. She kicked her boots off, reaching into her purse to retrieve the book the baker lent her. She flipped it open, surprised to find a piece of paper tucked between the pages which she quickly unfolded.

_Riddled with historical inaccuracies, yet far better than most. If you have any questions–_

She laughed. Had he really slipped her his phone number? She looked it over for a few moments, shaking her head.  _Smooth_. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, her cheeks feeling admittedly warm as she punched the number into a text message.

_**Is the baker trying to give me a history lesson?** _

She set her phone aside, turning her attention to the book as she kicked her feet up onto the couch, lowering herself into a more comfortable position. She’d only gotten through the first few pages when she heard the familiar electronic chirp of a new message 

_**[Unknown]: Did you think I only had bradh to offer? That would prove rather limiting, would it not?** _

She couldn’t help but giggle.  _Cute._

_**I guess this means I shouldn’t write my questions and comments in the margins?** _

There was a pause, then his response:

_**[Unknown]: That would be preferable.** _

She typed back quickly. _**You’re sure this wasn’t just an excuse to slip me your phone number?**_

_**[Unknown]: It was a means of achieving multiple ends.** _

_**[Unknown]: But now that I have yours in return, might I have a name to put it under?** _

She hesitated before a smirk curled over her lips. _**I’m putting you in my phone as The Baker, so I suppose you’ll have to come up with some suitable pseudonym, won’t you?  :P**_

She didn’t even bother looking at the book again, the open pages resting against her chest as she stared at her phone.

_**[Unknown]: Lan’sila it is.** _

She laughed, frowning. _**A city elf who knows Elvish? You are full of surprises.**_

_**[Unknown]: In that regard, you are certainly correct.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caved and wrote a little more for this. Back to other projects now. 
> 
> Translation: 
> 
> Lan’sila - feminine for a student, a learner (credit: project Elvhen)


	3. C.S.R.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stuff I was trying to write today just wasn't coming to me. So here. Have more bread wolf.

**_[Dorian]: I can’t believe you’re going on a date with that meat head._ **

Isii pursed her lips, frowning as she stole a glance at her phone. She silenced the ringer and slumped down in her seat, quickly typing a response.

**_Ok, first – it’s not a date._ **

**_[Dorian]: It’s a date._ **

**_Second, he’s not a meat head. You don’t even know him._ **

**_IT ISN’T A DATE._ **

**_[Dorian]: Right. Cause he’s been loitering around your work just because he’s that fascinated with Elvhen history?_ **

**_[Dorian]: I doubt he even knows the first thing about the subject._ **

**_Honestly, I think he’s just lonely._ **

**_Not a lot of Fereldens around here._ **

**_That and he just recently moved here from the Free Marches._ **

**_I’ve lived in both places. I think he just likes the idea of talking to someone who can share a little common ground._ **

**_But it’s not a date._ **

**_It’s just coffee._ **

**_Casual 2 o’clock coffee surrounded by undergrads catching naps in the café._ **

**_[Dorian]: Whatever you say, little wisp._ **

**_Did you ever call Bull?_ **

**_[Dorian]: Don’t change the subject._ **

**_You never did, did you?_ **

**_[Dorian]: g2g. Supervisor showed up._ **

Isii rolled her eyes, putting her phone back into her pocket.

* * *

 

Today, she was not alone.

“You’ll love this place,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “It’s one of my favorites. I’m only sad I didn’t find it sooner.”

There was a soft chuckle in response. Solas glanced up briefly as he was filling a pastry box with an assortment of petit fours. A man entered the shop behind her. Tall. Blond. Human. They both held drinks from the café down the road. Solas looked down again, shifting his focus to the customer who was impatiently tapping his fingers on the counter. An Orlesian elitist. Still the mask-wearing sort. Archaic. He shifted the box closed, ringing up the order. He could hear her speaking softly with her companion as they waited their turn. She was making recommendations, pointing out items in the displays. As soon as payment was exchanged, the Orlesian took his leave rather quickly. Unsurprising. This was not a fashionable part of the city to be seen in. Still, his services were becoming popular among the noble class. That would prove useful.

Her face brightened as they stepped up to the counter, smiling. “On dhea’him.”

Solas could not help but return the gesture, lips quirking. “An’eth’ara, lan’sila. Nuvenan ma son.”

“Ame, emma serannas. Nuvenan ma tas son.”

Though her accent was distinctly Dalish, there was something oddly comforting in hearing another speak his language. The human cleared his throat. He looked mildly uncomfortable. Either confused or simply feeling left out. Hard to tell.

“Thank you again for the book,” she continued, slipping back into Common. “So far it’s been rather fascinating. I look forward to picking your brain about it later.”

“I am pleased to hear it. The usual, today?”

The human arched his brow, smiling softly as he looked down at her. “You have a usual?”

“Honeyed bradh. A type of Elven pastry.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Not surprised. They’re not all that common around here but _gods_ are they delicious. A bit addictive, if you ask me. Admittedly, I’ve eaten way too many of them since I found this place.”

The shem smiled. “Sounds good to me. Two, then?” She nodded and Solas set to work, retrieving and plating two bradhen. She took out her wallet, riffling through the brightly-colored bills but the human shook his head. “Allow me.”

“That’s really not necessary,” she said with a laugh as he pulled out his card.

“I insist.”

Her smile broadened. “That’s sweet of you. Thanks.”

Solas’s lips pursed tightly as he took the payment. He swiped the card, stealing a glance at the name – Cullen S. Rutherford. C.S.R. The phone number from her place marker. He made a note of it, saying nothing as he waited for the man’s signature. They took their plates, settling at the table in the corner where she normally sat alone.

Solas went about his business, cleaning behind the counter, rearranging the displays to compensate for spaces that had been emptied over the course of the afternoon. He could not hear much of what was said between them. Their tone was low, but warm. There was laughter. His attention was drawn away when another customer arrived – a rather stern-looking woman with short black hair. Scarred face – not a mask-wearer, or else she would surely cover them while in public. She spoke Orlesian with a tone of authority. Accented. Not native. A hint of Nevarran? He took her order wordlessly. One pain de campagne, one pain au chocolat. He noted the weapon at her hip as well as a badge, though he could not make out the insignia at this angle. These were all mindless observations that came automatically. This was what he did. He watched people. There was a wealth of information one could attain through careful surveillance. He set the pastry into a box, bagging the bread, his eyes unconsciously drifting back to the table in the corner.

He could not help but take note of the pair with the same level of scrutiny. Cullen maintained eye contact with her as she spoke. Eyebrows raised in interest. Leaning forward in his seat. Face brightening when she laughed. Rubbing the back of his neck on occasion, smiling sheepishly. At one point he brushed back hair from her face as she thanked him, her fingertips sticky with honey. Her back was to Solas, yet her posture spoke for her. Shoulders relaxed, leaning comfortably. Open. Welcoming.

Solas was fairly certain he was witnessing a date.

He lowered his gaze, ringing up the woman’s order. His fingers struck the keys harder than usual. He took a slow breath. He should not be irritated. It was irrational. He didn’t know the girl. He was surprised, to say the least, that a Dalish would be interested in a human, but she would not be the first nor the last.

It did not change his opinion of her.    

* * *

 

Dorian glanced down at his phone.

**_[Isii]: SHIT. He thinks it’s a date._ **

He scoffed, typing back. **_I told you._**

* * *

 

Isii swallowed hard, forcing a smile as Cullen excused himself. The second he was out of sight, she whipped out her phone, typing furiously.

**_FENEDHIS._ **

**_HE’S A TEMPLAR._ **

She did not have to wait long for a reply.

**_[Dorian]: Are you serious?_ **

**_He didn’t just move here. He was transferred._ **

**_[Dorian]: Do you think he suspects anything?_ **

**_Gods I hope not._ **

**_If he does, he hasn’t dropped any hints._ **

**_[Dorian]: Find some polite excuse to leave._ **

**_[Dorian]: Do you need me to give you some sort of fake emergency call?_ **

She took a deep breath.

**_No. I can handle this._ **

**_Like an adult._ **

**_Maybe._ **

**_[Dorian]: Just be careful._ **

She halted her response as the Templar came back into view, quickly sliding her phone into her pocket.

_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._

* * *

 

**_[Isii]: Just toss me in the Void and be done with it._ **

**_[Isii]: That was so awkward._ **

Dorian set aside his dinner, leaning back on his couch. **_He didn’t try to kiss you, did he?_**

**_[Isii]: Maybe?_ **

**_[Isii]: I don’t know._ **

**_[Isii]: There was leaning._ **

**_[Isii]: Ugh._ **

**_[Isii]: He was incredibly sweet but…_ **

**_[Isii]: That was not what I was expecting._ **

**_[Isii]: It’s just really throwing me off._ **

**_[Isii]: And a Templar on top of everything._ **

**_Well you were flirting with him._ **

**_[Isii]: I was not!_ **

**_[Isii]: I was being friendly!_ **

**_[Isii]: There’s a difference!!!_ **

**_[Isii]: Ugh._ **

**_[Isii]: Men are weird._ **

**_[Isii]: Humans are weird._ **

**_[Isii]: I need to go home and bury myself in a mindless Netflix binge._**

He laughed. ** _Maker – are you still leeching off of my account?_**

There was a brief pause.

**_[Isii]: Hush._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> On dhea’him – good afternoon  
> An’eth’ara – Greetings. My place is safe.  
> Lan’sila – student, learner, thinking person. His nickname for her.  
> Nuvenan ma son – Hope you are well.  
> Ame, emma serannas. Nuvenan ma tas son. – I am, thank you. I hope you are also well.


	4. History Lesson

Solas was still working his way through the morning rush when he heard the message arrive, the sound of his phone muffled by his pocket. He could not tend to it immediately. Too many customers. The first hours of business were always the busiest, customers coming in all at once to grab pastries to accompany their morning coffee. His assistant had not been moving fast enough and his patience was wearing thin. He heard his phone softly chirp twice more before he finished the last transaction, finally having a chance to slip the device out of his pocket, swiping to unlock the screen.

**_3 new messages: Lan’sila_ **

The corner of his lips lifted as he curiously tapped to open them. His lan’sila, whatever her name truly was, had only sent him a few messages since that first night – though never this early in the day.

**_[Lan’sila]: On dhea, Baker._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: This might seem totally random, but bear with me-_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: I assume you do not worship the Creators, correct? Andrastian?_ **

He frowned, head tilted as he typed.

**_I do not worship any gods._ **

**_Might I inquire as to why this is of interest to you?_ **

The response came a few moments later. This time he did not delay in checking his phone.

**_[Lan’sila]: What is the more common name of Lethanavir?_ **

He grinned despite himself, his eyes narrowing.

**_Are you attempting to test my knowledge of ancient lore?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Since you claim to be an expert, yes._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Answer the question, baker. The longer you dally, the more I’ll be convinced you just Googled it._ **

He appreciated her desire to challenge him.

**_Falon’Din._ **

**_And I am at work – so my answers may be delayed from time to time if you persist._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Who is the youngest of the Elven pantheon?_ **

“Didn’t you say we weren’t supposed to have our phones out at work?”

“I make exception for business related matters, Sera,” he said flatly, disregarding his newest employee as he tapped the phone’s screen.

**_Ghilan’nain._ **

**_Do get a bit more creative with your questions. Lan’sila. A child could have answered that one._ **

He worried for a moment that perhaps his boasting came across as overly harsh as there was a delay in her response. He was considering a way to better communicate his tone when the next message appeared.

**_[Lan’sila]: Challenge accepted. ;)_ **

The door opened. More customers arrived. Solas slipped the phone into his pocket, returning to work. Even as he tried to focus on the task at hand, he couldn’t deny feeling an anxious urge to check the device when he heard it beep once more. He would see the message soon enough. There were other matters to attend to.

* * *

 

The sound of her phone going off made Isii jump, the meeting interrupted as a number of eyes turned toward her. _Shit._ She pulled it out of her purse and slipped it into Silent Mode. _Apparently the baker finally got around to responding to me._ “Sorry about that, Professor,” she muttered sheepishly.

The shem smiled reassuringly, shrugging. “Not a problem. I forget to turn the ringer off on mine all the time. Well, when I’m not leaving the damn thing at home in the first place. And please, just Kenric will suffice.” Monsieur Rochette cleared his throat and Bram straightened in his seat, nodding. “Right then, as I was saying... Our most recent dig was aiming to investigate what we suspected was an Alamarri settlement in the northwest. Imagine my surprise when we found a whole mess of Elvhen artifacts littered throughout the site. Given a cursory glance, it all appeared to be Pre-Ancient in both style and function, yet their placement in the strata suggested that they were still in active use at a time contemporary to human occupation in the region. Fascinating, really. It implies that there may have been some co-existing pocket of independent elves – a clan or a tribe perhaps? Admittedly, I’m jumping to conclusions. There’s still a lot more we need to do to study what we pulled out of the ground. Problem is, pre-Chantry Elvhen is not my area of expertise. We could use a hand or two in analyzing the collection.”

Rochette frowned, scratching at his chin. Professor Kenric shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Not field work, of course,” he added, clarifying. “Everything’s been tagged and bagged and is sitting in my department’s lab. I don’t even need to take them full-time. Just an extra set of eyes would help in telling my team precisely what we’re looking at.”

“I could more than handle it, given the workload I currently have,” Isii offered tentatively. True, Deshanna was having her run in circles with clan responsibilities, but her boss didn’t have to know that. From the sound of it, the chance to get her hands on Kenric’s collection was not one she’d want to pass up on. It would be worth a few late nights and under-slept mornings.

Rochette peered at her a moment before shaking his head. “They’d want someone with more experience. Pernet will lead. You can assist.” Isii nodded, flashing a brief smile to Armand Pernet even as her jaw clenched tightly. The thought that anyone could believe that pretentious, egotistical, narrow-minded shem knew more about Elvhenan than she did was frankly insulting, but she knew not to be surprised. The man was bolstered by seniority and the rounded shape of his ears.

When the meeting concluded, Isii returned to her desk, glancing around cautiously before pulling out her phone. Her previous message now had its response:

**_In what year did Arlathan fall to Tevinter?_ **

**_[The Baker]: Debatable. The humans believe it was in -975 Ancient. Sufficient?_ **

She wondered briefly if he had taken the time to look it up or if he had truly recalled it from memory. She hunched over her phone, typing once more.

**_What discovery was the most important concerning the translation of ancient Elvhen?_ **

His response was much faster this time.

**_[The Baker]: The Trevessian Tablet. First writing to have both Elvhen and the Dwarven Common trading language._ **

_Very good, baker._ She smiled. **_And who discovered it?_**

**_[The Baker]: I am far more interested in the history of our people than I am the shems who take credit for it._ **

She was in the middle of writing a reply, teasing him about making excuses, when a series of messages interrupted her.

**_[The Baker]: But if I am not mistaken, it was a woman named Maecilia Gelasius._ **

**_[The Baker]: Shall I give you the year it was discovered?_ **

**_[The Baker]: Perhaps the university who funded the excursion?_ **

She laughed quietly. **_Show off. :P_**

* * *

 

Solas found the speed at which she responded now strangely satisfying – far more so than waiting for distracted messages to drift back and forth.

**_And now I ask you, Lan’sila -_ **

**_When did the Elvhen first make contact with the Dwarves?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: -4600 Ancient._ **

**_And the humans?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Sometime between -3100 Ancient and -2900 Ancient. Records aren’t clear._ **

**_Hmm._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Did you really just ‘hmm’ at me in a text? That’s adorable. XD_ **

He chuckled, pausing a moment to think. A more challenging question was in order.

**_Name one of the Elven Kings. In order to avoid taxing you further, any shall suffice._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Oh, well I appreciate you making the question simpler for me, baker._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Whichever shall I pick? There are just so many._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Athel, Cyrris, Athrand, Gethlhen, Taemen…_ **

His smile spread. Definitely an academic. Her interest in the subject went beyond casual knowledge. Not a teacher nor a student, but something relating to the field.

**_[Lan’sila]: Should I go on?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Would you like me to list them by dynasty? ;)_ **

“Hey! Boss!”

“One moment, Sera,” he said distractedly, typing.

**_Attempting to impress me?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: No more than you are trying to do the same._ **

“Oy, Baldilocks.”

He frowned, stuffing the phone back into his pocket as he called out from the back room. “Do you truly find such nicknames a wise strategy in terms of job security? I am your employer…”

“What? It got your attention, dinnit?”

He let out a slow, irritated breath, moving into the front of the shop to see what the elf needed.

* * *

 

**_You must do a lot of reading in your spare time in order to know so much._ **

**_[The Baker]: I have multiple means of study. It is a subject that has held my interest for a very long time._ **

**_[The Baker]: Is your knowledge limited to Elvhenan, or is your desire for information sated elsewhere as well?_ **

**_Pre-Tevinter Elvhenan is my specialty – though knowing what comes after is just as important as knowing what came before._ **

**_[The Baker]: Wise words._ **

She smiled, typing.

**_I have my moments._ **

* * *

 

**_[Lan’sila]: You still at work?_ **

**_Yes. Why?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Do you prefer coffee or tea?_ **

**_Neither._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Your loss. I would have brought you some._ **

**_Should I take that as a cue to plate your regular bradh in preparation of your arrival?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: I think I might try something different today._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Who am I kidding? Yes. Of course. Honeyed bradh._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Only not a plate. To go this time. Won’t be able to stay long._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: I’ll be there in a little bit. The line at the café is moving at a snail’s pace today._ **

* * *

 

“Did your friend enjoy the bradh?” Solas asked, attempting to downplay his interest as he rang up her order.

She hesitated a moment, seemingly confused before nodding. “Oh. Right. Um… yeah. He did, I think.” She pulled out her wallet, counting out the bills she needed for payment. “Probably not bringing him in again any time soon,” she muttered quietly to herself.

“Oh?” he asked absentmindedly, shuffling through the cash she handed him before placing it in the drawer. “Did your date not go well?”

The sharpness of her laughter surprised him. “Fenedhis, am I honestly the only one who didn’t think that was a date?!”

Admittedly he felt a small amount of pleasure at the revelation, but he did not let it register on his face. “My mistake then,” he murmured, handing her the receipt. She smiled, bringing her drink up to her lips. He glanced at the cup as she did, reading the name scrawled in black ink across it. “Isabeau? I take it that is not your real name.”

She glanced down at her beverage, giggling. “Nope. It’s strictly a nom du café. I got tired of having them mess up my name all the time, so I picked something Orlesian just to simplify things. But absolutely no one calls me that.” She smirked, arching her brow as she playfully shrugged. “Besides, I wouldn’t make it that easy for you, baker.” She collected the pastry, studying him a moment as she took another sip. “I’ll see you around,” she said before turning to leave. He echoed the farewell, watching as she disappeared once more past the windows of his shop.

“She reminds you of something.”

Solas busied himself with wiping down the counter. “I would not go so far as to say that.”

“Long nights. Quiet. Ages filled only with spirits’ whispers, but it’s not the same here on the outside. You’ve been awake too long.” The boy watched him from the corner of the shop, his feet curled up on the edge of the chair where he sat, hugging his knees. His eyes were worn, widened, always looking somewhat nervous as he stared at the baker, watching him clean wordlessly. “Intrigued. Intriguing, though you don’t know why. You’re curious. Lonely. Maybe she can help with that.”

“I feel no lack of companionship, Cole,” he said quietly, glancing over to him.

“They all would notice eventually. You leave them behind so they do not see that you are different. It wouldn’t have to be that way this time. Banal nadas.”

Elvish always sounded foreign on the boy’s tongue, human-shaped as it was. Solas smiled softly despite himself. “You speak as if she is anything more than a casual acquaintance.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

Solas hesitated before shaking his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Solas glanced up as Sera poked her head out from the back room, frowning at him. “Merely muttering to myself,” he said absentmindedly. “Have you finally decided to get back to work, or shall I continue to count the rest of the afternoon as your break?”

“Weirdo,” she muttered to herself, tying her apron as she began noisily poking around behind the counter. Solas glanced over to Cole who let out a slow sigh before disappearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> on dhea - good morning (project elvhen)  
> lan'sila - female student. His nickname for her. (project elvhen)  
> banal nadas - nothing is inevitable.
> 
> If you follow me on [tumblr](http://geeky-jez.tumblr.com/), you're probably well aware that this chapter was mostly the result of me having too much to drink and doing my equivalent of "drunk texting"... which apparently involves me writing two elves nerding out about history.  
> As far as the historical tidbits mentioned here, I'll clarify what's real and what's not - I made up the Trevessian Tablet (supposedly discovered in the canon-city Trevis in Tevinter) as well as the names of the Elvhen kings. We do know that Elvhenan had kings (based on a story told by Felassan in Masked Empire) and my assumption is that more information about Elvhenan would have been uncovered by the time the story reached the modern era. The dates mentioned, however, are canon.


	5. A Favor

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

The words took Isii by surprise, leaving the baker’s lips before she had a chance to make her order. Not that she need to anymore. She was half-surprised to not see him immediately reach for the honeyed bradh as soon as she entered the shop. She tilted her head, peering at him as she finished closing the distance to the counter.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“I have a new item I was considering adding to my selection. I was wondering if you would be willing to give me your opinion.”

A soft smile spread across her lips. “I’d be happy to.”

He nodded, seemingly pleased. “A moment, then,” he murmured before disappearing into the back room. She strummed her fingers idly against the countertop, stealing a sip from her tea as she looked around the shop. It was empty – unusual, for this time of day. Unlike many of the other boulangeries she’d been to in this city, he kept his décor very simple. It lacked the ornate furniture or artwork set within elaborate frames that were so typical to Orlesian décor. He had no hanging art. Instead, he had one wall that served as its own canvas, painted in an impressive mural. Whatever artist he’d paid to do the job had been well worth the cost. In stark clean lines, they’d rendered a detailed copy of the city’s skyline – the Grand Cathedral, the University of Orlais, the towering and ancient White Spire still putting the modern skyscrapers to shame. Looming over it sat a white wolf, its head thrown back in a howl and the name of the shop scrawled in beautiful lettering: _Le Pain Loup_.

The fact that the artwork so clearly mimicked the styling typical of the Lingrean Age of Elvhenan had not escaped her notice. At first she gave it little thought – just an Elf-owned shop using Elvhen-styled branding to market its wares. Now that she knew about his love of history, she saw more purpose behind the choice rather than mere aesthetics.

He reemerged, setting a small plate on the counter. On it sat a delicate piece of rolled and folded dough stuffed with some sort of cream and topped with chopped nuts. She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing. “Did you honestly have that sitting in the back waiting for me?”

“Yes.”

She toyed with the edge of her drink’s lid with her thumbnail. “And what if I hadn’t come in today?”

“I would have made another tomorrow.”

Her smile widened as she bit her lip. “Are you flirting with me, baker?” she asked teasingly, arching her brow. “I’d advise you to be rather upfront if you are – apparently I’m a terrible judge of such things.”

His smile was soft and pleasant and told her nothing. “Try it,” he said simply.

She slid the plate closer, peering at it for a moment before carefully lifting the treat to her lips. The flavor of that first bite melted over her tongue and she laughed at her barely-stifled moan, bringing her other hand up to cover her mouth. The filling was not cream as she had first assumed but a sweetened cheese of some kind. She could tell he’d made it with her tastes in mind, the filling flavored with hints of honey and cinnamon, the chopped nuts and firm dough adding a delightful crunch to the otherwise silky texture. She felt a bit silly, trying not to grin like an idiot as he watched her eat.

“This is spectacular,” she said once she’d managed to swallow. “Might be my new favorite.”

He hummed softly, nodding. “Well, it is always available at your request, assuming I have the ingredients on hand.”

She chuckled. “That’s rather generous of you.”

“I try to be, on occasion.”

He busied himself with straightening up behind the counter as she lingered by the register. “I don’t think I’ve ever had something like this before.”

“It’s a very old recipe,” he said dismissively. “I’ve had to make a few adjustments on account of certain ingredients being unavailable, but I’d like to think it is a close approximation. Similar enough to my recollection, at least.”

Her gaze drifted back to the mural as she chewed through another bite. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your bakery’s name confuses me.”

“Is that so?”

“Shouldn’t it be Le Pain de Loup? Or Loup de Pain?”

“Perhaps,” he said, “though I suppose the joke would be a bit lost then.”

She frowned. “The joke?”

His lips quirked secretively as he shrugged. “Admittedly juvenile when translated into Common.”

She frowned, thinking. “Le Pain Loup. The Bread Wolf?” It took her a second before she was groaning, rubbing her hand over her face. “Uugh, the _Bread_ Wolf. That’s terrible.”

He laughed. “I never said it was a good joke.”

“A touch blasphemous, is it not?” she asked, popping the last bite into her mouth.

“Not for me.”

She arched a skeptical brow. “And why is that?”

“I do not hold its source sacred.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Ah. So you’re appropriating someone else’s religion in order to make a bad joke? Classy.”

He glanced up only briefly before returning his attention to removing emptied trays from the display case. “All elves share a common history in terms of culture as well as faith, do they not? If that is true, could it really be considered appropriation on my part? I have not disavowed my connection to the symbolism, however drastically it may have changed over the years. Either way – no one has voiced offense to it yet.”

“Not likely to. Not a lot of Creator worship in Val Royeaux.”

“And you?” he asked, pausing to look up. “Do you keep them as your gods?”

“I do.”

He studied her a moment before returning to his work, letting out a short hum.

“Hmmm?” she mimicked, her face still warm and friendly as she challenged his response. “Care to comment further, baker?”

“Not particularly.”

Her reply was cut off by the sound of the door opening, a masked woman sweeping into the shop with an air of self-important authority. Her clothing was sharply tailored and reeked of affluence. She did not appear to take note of Isii as the elf shifted away from the register, nor did she seem particularly interested in making eye contact with the baker as she peered at the displays, rattling out her order in Orlesian. His response was automatic, gathering her requested items as he answered her in kind. Isii found it strange to hear him speak the language. While many of the people she encountered in the city were bilingual, slipping between Common and Orlesian regularly throughout their day, she could usually tell what their first language was based on their accent. By the way he spoke Common, she would have assumed he was Ferelden or possibly a Marcher, but he conversed in Orlesian like a native.  

Isii waited for the woman to leave before speaking again. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can always ask.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“I’m from a lot of places,” he said, grabbing a cloth and cleanser and stepping out from behind the counter.

“Well that’s unnecessarily mysterious.”

“Says the woman who will not tell me her name,” he countered, his brow lifting.

She smiled. “You have a point.” She watched as he began to wipe down the display case, removing the smudges the woman’s fingertips left behind.

“I am not Orlesian, if that is what you are asking. The town I was born in lies within the borders of Ferelden, but I do not consider myself as such. And you? Are you one of the purest of the isolationists, hailing from the Dales?”

She leaned back against the counter. “Do I sense a note of sarcasm?”

“Quite possibly.”

She pursed her lips. “No,” she answered after a moment. “My clan moved around a lot. Mostly stuck to the Free Marches, though we spent some time in Ferelden.” She paused to sip her tea. “My Orlesian is not as pristine as it should be, considering how long I’ve lived here. Thankfully I can get away with speaking Common at work. Otherwise, I’d be spending all day mucking up my conjugations with a crowd of strangers staring at me.”

“Your job requires public speaking?” He studied her, his eyes narrowing. “A lecturer, perhaps?”

She grinned, glancing down briefly as her phone began to buzz in her pocket. “Just keep guessing, baker.” She slipped her cell into her hand, frowning as she saw the familiar face of her Keeper on the caller ID.

Solas watched as the woman muttered a distracted goodbye, pacing toward the door as she answered the call. “On dhea’him, hahren…. Felas, calm down….” She nearly bumped into Sera as the elves passed one another, his employee finally returning from her errand. “Sorry,” she muttered, catching the door as her attention shifted back to her phone. He caught a few more words before it closed behind her. “No, I haven’t gone to the protests…. Yes, yes, I know what they’re doing…”

“She’s in here an awful lot, isn’t she?” Sera mused, tossing her bag onto one of the tables.

Solas’s brow furrowed, unamused. “Took you long enough to get back.”

She shrugged, unconcerned as she rifled through her purse. “Yeah, well. It’s not like you’re paying me for my winning customer service, right? Don’t see much need for me to be in here when there’s other work I could be doin’.” She pulled out a small red envelope, tossing it onto the counter. “Got the names you wanted.”

His lips pursed as he slipped the parcel it into his pocket. “The trash bins in the back room need emptying.”

“Maker, don’t say thank you or nothin’,” she griped, sauntering into the back.

“I’ll thank you if and when the information pans out.”

“Pffft. Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Lingrean – phoenix in Elvhen. In this Modern AU, I am assuming that Elvhenan has been more closely studied (though much of its past remains a mystery). Because the expanse of time is so vast in the time between Elvhenan’s founding and the beginning of the Ancient Age, academics have established a second set of “ages” to mark shifts in art, architecture, technology, etc.  
> On dhea'him - good afternoon  
> felas - slow


	6. Artwork

Isii kept her head down as the bus gently jostled her, poking at her phone and doing her best to avoid eye contact. She could feel some of the other riders staring at her. People always stared. Even as most of those sitting around her were elves, none of them bore vallaslin.

Being Dalish in Val Royeaux never went unnoticed.

They hit a bump in the road that knocked her earbud out of place. Isii frowned, irritated as she pushed it back in. It was next to impossible to find headphones that fit properly, though she shouldn’t be surprised. The shemlen didn’t seem particularly concerned about making products specifically for elven consumers. She clicked the volume of her music higher, mindlessly mouthing the lyrics as she stared out the window.

_Sitting across the bar, staring right at her prey,_   
_It’s going well so far, she’s gonna get her way._   
_Nocturnal creatures are not so prudent,_   
_The moon’s my teacher, and I’m her student._

A brief chime sounded before the song resumed and she glanced down at her phone.

**_[Dagna]: Any chance you’re stopping by the lab today? Had a question about one of the artifacts Kenric assigned me to. Your partner keeps giving me the brush off._ **

Isii sighed, frowning as she typed her response.

**_Sorry. Museum shift is going to be taking up most of my day. Can it wait until tomorrow?_ **

**_[Dagna]: No worries. I’ve got other stuff I can do today._ **

**_[Dagna]: I suspect what I’m looking at had some magical significance, but Pernet doesn’t seem too receptive to the idea. I wanted a second opinion._ **

Isii ran her tongue over her teeth, her lips tensing.

**_Sounds like Armand._ **

**_Sorry my partner is a bit of an ass. He’s pretty well married to his theory that the magical prowess of Elvhenan was blown out of proportion._ **

Isii glanced out the window. The music continued to stream through her headphones as she pulled the cord to request her stop. She bobbed her head mindlessly as she rose to her feet, purse slung loosely over her shoulder. She shuffled toward the front of the bus as it slowed, typing her response as she stepped down onto the sidewalk.

**_If you’ve got something that you think is tied to the arcane, it would be better to save it for me._ **

**_9 times out of 10, he’s going to dismiss the notion._ **

She couldn’t hear anything outside the pounding beat of the song, her eyes glued to her phone as she stepped briskly away from the bus stop. It shouldn’t have surprised her when she crashed into another pedestrian but a curse flew from her lips nonetheless as her purse slipped off of her shoulder, dumping its contents across the pavement. She crouched down to gather her things, her eyes only barely lifting to see who she’d run into. The baker stared back at her, brow lifted, lips moving. She only heard his voice as a low rumble over the sound of the music.

_-wolf in disguise, coming out, coming-_

She tore the earbuds out quickly. “Sorry, what?”

He smiled patiently, leaning down to help her. “Merely suggesting that you should watch where you are going,” he said calmly.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she scooped up a handful of pens, shoving them back into the bottom of her bag. “Well I wasn’t expecting to run into you outside of your natural habitat, baker,” she murmured. Admittedly it was odd to see him out of his work clothes. She was used to a simple button down shirt and slacks, hiding behind a black apron that was well dusted with flour. Quite different from the dark jeans and oversized sweater he wore now. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, a hint of the shirt he wore underneath it peeking through. He looked far more laid back than she would have expected, given the rather formal manner he tended to present.

“I do take days off from time to time,” he replied, handing her the papers he’d picked up along with a few stray tubes of lipstick. He held the book he’d loaned her, eyeing the small post-it flags that peeked out of the edges. “Marking points of interest, I take it?”

She plucked the book from his hand, tucking it back into her purse. “Things I wanted to find secondary sources for. You should prepare yourself for a debate when I’m done.”

His laughter was soft and she couldn’t help but feel a subtle warmth in her chest at the sound. “Well then, I will consider myself warned.”

She rearranged the contents of her bag, lifting herself to her feet as she glanced at her watch. “Sorry, I’d stay and chat but I’m running late for work.”

“I would not keep you,” he said with a nod as she slipped her purse back onto her shoulder. She flashed him a smile and reluctantly turned, continuing down the street.

***

Merrill poked her head into the break room as Isii hurried to put her things away. “Oh, good! You’re here! You have a tour in ten, I was worried you weren’t going to make it.”

Isii glanced up as she tugged her scarf off. “I know I’m late. Sorry, falon. Traffic was a mess. The bus had to reroute to avoid the protesters.”

“Your boyfriend was by here earlier, looking for you.”

Isii frowned, shoving her purse into her locker. “My what now?”

Merrill paused, her eyes widening. “Oh. _Oh_ , he’s probably not your boyfriend, is he? Not with the face you’re making. Shouldn’t have said that. That was stupid. It’s only just… I’ve seen the two of you talking a lot. Whenever he comes by he really only seems interested in talking to you. I thought it was rather progressive, you dating a shem, but if anyone was going to, it would be you. Not that you should take that the wrong way or anything, just that you’re… hmm… open minded? But I shouldn’t assume things.”

Isii’s brow arched. “You don’t mean the blonde guy do you? Tall with the scarred lip?”

“That’s the one,” she said, nodding. “He asked if you’d come into work yet. Loitered around a little bit and then left.”

Isii let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. There were an embarrassing number of unanswered phone calls between the two of them since their _date that was absolutely not a date_. As guilty as she felt about it, she had kind of hoped Cullen would simply take a hint and stop trying. He was a sweet guy, but what exactly was she supposed to say to him? _Sorry, we can’t be friends because I’d really rather not have you haul me off to a Circle?_

“You should be careful around him, if he comes by again.” Merrill frowned, tilting her head. “Templar.” Isii mouthed the word, not giving it breath and her friend’s eyes widened.

“Oh. Oh, that does complicate things, now doesn’t it?”

Isii’s phone chirped at her and she stole a glance downward, seeing the time as she swiped her lock screen. She had to hurry. She began absentmindedly walking toward the door as her eyes scanned the text message.

**_[The Baker]: Are you at work now, by any chance?_ **

Her eyes narrowed.  **_Why?_** She typed back.

**_[The Baker]: Mere curiosity._ **

She smiled, making her way toward the exhibit hall as her fingers slipped deftly over the screen. **_Guess you’ll just have to stay curious, then.  :)_**

**_[The Baker]: Perhaps._ **

She slipped the phone into her pocket as she approached the group of shems who were lingering under an archway labelled _The Wonders of Arlathan_. “Savhalla, everyone,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’ll be your tour guide for today.”

***

Realistically, these tours felt more like she was babysitting than educating. Very few questions were asked of her and half the time she was fairly certain they weren’t listening to her presentation. They were mostly tourists; families dragging bored children to the history museum as part of their sight-seeing checklist in Val Royeaux. They’d come to gawk at the archeological remnants that had been scavenged from across Thedas. Occasionally she would see a few barefaced elves wander through the exhibit, though never for the paid tours. Even though it was technically against the rules, she allowed them to linger close and listen.

After all, they seemed to be the only ones who truly cared about what she had to say.

“Now, these are some of the best preserved murals that have ever been recovered from before the human migration into Thedas,” she said, leading them into the next room. This was her favorite part of the collection and it always garnered at least some small reaction from guests. They murmured as they took in the impressive display, the set of nine murals stretching from floor to ceiling, shimmering metal set against a stark white backdrop. Even though the setting was entirely wrong, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as the faces of her gods stared back at her.

“These represent the nine gods of the Elvhen pantheon – Elgar’nan and Mythal, the All-Father and All-Mother, respectively. The twins Falon’Din and Dirthamen. Andruil and her two siblings June and Sylaise. Ghilan’nain, the first halla. The last one is self-explanatory,” she said, pointing to the image of a grinning wolf. “Fen’Harel, more commonly called the Dread Wolf.”

“That’s like, really messed up that the elves were like… worshipping a demon and shit,” a not-so-eloquent teenage boy remarked. Isii resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She let the false notion that somehow the worship of these gods was strictly past-tense go without correction, instead focusing on the larger issue.

“The Dread Wolf was not a demon,” she said patiently. “That idea has only come about from popular fiction within the last century. Human-made films, most of them in the horror genre, taking inspiration from Elvhen lore for their stories. Given that the Andrastian faith does not truly have a figure that is equivalent to the Dread Wolf, he has been presented as demonic through a process of cultural mistranslation.” Her eye drifted from the shem for a moment, pausing in surprise as she found a familiar face staring at her from the room’s entrance. The baker leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching wordlessly. The corner of his lips warmed into a bemused smile as their eyes met and she quickly regained her focus, finishing her thought. “I assure you, it’s not a proper reflection of Elvhen spiritual beliefs.”

“But like… he was a big evil thing that lived in the Fade…”

“Legends say he could move through people’s dreams in the Fade, true,” she continued. “And he was not always kind or generous. He could be cruel and greedy. More often than not, however, the stories show him as less actively malicious and more mischievous. He allowed others’ flaws to bring about their own downfall rather than attacking them outright.”

“I dunno… doesn’t that kinda sound like a demon anyway?”

Isii pursed her lips, trying to force a calm smile. “The ancient Elvhen do make references to corrupted spirits in their myths. While they were clearly familiar with the concept, they did not consider the Dread Wolf to fit within the same category. Now, I’ll give you all a few moments to take a closer look. I’ll be here to answer questions if you have them,” she finished politely. The group took her cue, dispersing through the room. She calmly stepped closer to the baker who stood with his hands neatly tucked behind his back, gazing up at Mythal’s mural.

“Wandering in on a tour you didn’t pay for, hmmm?” she teased quietly. “Telam, bradh’ajuelan. That’s against the rules.” He merely hummed, a self-satisfied grin on his lips. “How did you find me?”

“Who said I was looking for you?” he asked. “Perhaps I simply wished to explore the exhibit?”

Her brow arched as she smirked. “Should I be worried that you’re stalking me, baker? First you slip me your number, now you’re tracking me down to my workplace? Am I going to find you standing outside my apartment next?”

“Ah,” he said calmly, “so you live in an apartment. That will certainly narrow down the search.” He glanced over to her then, his sarcasm more than clear.

She laughed softly. “You’re strange.”

“So I’ve been told,” he said with a nod. “When you said you were headed to work, I had a hunch that perhaps this was your destination. A job that is relatively close to the bus stop you exited from, involves public speaking and a working knowledge of ancient history. I simply wished to see if my deduction was accurate.”

“Well, congratulations, detective,” she murmured.

“Admittedly I am disappointed by the lack of name tags. That would have cleared up two mysteries at once.”

“I’d hate to make it that easy for you.”

“I suppose I could always ask one of your coworkers what your name is.”

“If you can find one of them that can pronounce it correctly,” she teased. In truth, it was a bluff. If he found Merrill, she’d happily tell him Isii’s name, home address and probably blood type with little effort on his part.

He smiled nonetheless. “Do not take this the wrong way, but I get the impression you are overqualified for this position.”

“Yes, well, this is what I get for majoring in art history,” she said with a soft chuckle. “This is just my day job, though. I spend the rest of my time working as a researcher at the University of Orlais. Well, junior researcher, anyway.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes shifting to the humans, some of whom were growing restless. “Is it troublesome for you if I continue to follow the tour?”

She shrugged. “I guess I can make an exception. But I’ll want something in return.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, lifting his brow.

She playfully bit her lip. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Ah. So a bargain for an undefined favor?” he said, studying her features. “I suppose there are worse fates.”

He followed quietly as she continued the tour, always lingering in the back of the room, watching her with a casual interest. She found his reactions a bit perplexing at times. More often than not, he stood with a rather smug look on his face – as if he found her presentation quaint rather than thought-provoking.

It was a good thing she thought he was cute - otherwise it would be incredibly aggravating. Coming from him, it was strangely endearing.

She was in the middle of calmly explaining the significance of halla imagery throughout Elvhen history when she heard the loud shudder-click of a phone taking a photo. Her eyes scanned the crowd, trying to resist the urge to laugh when she spotted the baker frowning while fiddling with his mobile. “There’s no photography allowed in the exhibit,” she reminded him, lips pursed to suppress her smile as he nodded, his phone disappearing into his pocket. She passed by him, murmuring low as she led them to the next room. “Next time you might want to silence your camera app,” she whispered.

“I will keep that in mind.”

***

Isii went about the boring task of sorting informational pamphlets behind the information desk, silently wishing that the baker had stayed longer after the tour. He’d only lingered for a few moments, excusing himself so he would not distract her from her work. She’d welcome the distraction now.

She was quick to grab her phone as it buzzed in her pocket, looking around to confirm that her boss was not present before retrieving it.

**_[The Baker]: Multi-Media Message. File Sent: IMG_39.jpg. Click to View._ **

She frowned, puzzled as she tapped the screen. The picture that loaded was of herself, smiling patiently, framed by the painting of galloping halla that hung on the wall behind her. The light from the displays cast soft shadows over her features, a small bit of lens flare in the corner capturing a streaming prism of color.

It was a damned good picture.

The text below it was in Elvish and it took a moment for her to decipher. “Ir abelas. Eolasan ir’vera leala or melava … Ir’vera leala or melava?” she muttered quietly under her breath. She chewed on her lip before the meaning dawned on her. _Ir’vera leala or melava_ \- to steal the color of time. An interesting way to describe photography for a language that would entirely lack the proper vocabulary for it. In full, the message read:

**_[The Baker]: I am sorry. I know taking pictures of the artwork is prohibited, but I could not resist._ **

She giggled as she typed her reply.

**_I would accuse you of using that as a well-practiced pickup line, but I doubt there are many women who would understand it._ **

His response came quickly.

**_[The Baker]: The scenario does seem rather specific for it to be a practiced line, does it not? Unless you think I am in the habit of picking up women in museums._ **

**_Everyone has a hobby._ **

**_[The Baker]: As long as you found it pleasing, then it has fulfilled its purpose._ **

**_I certainly did. Not a bad picture, either. I’m surprised you didn’t catch me with my mouth awkwardly open and half-way blinking._ **

**_[The Baker]: That would have added a rather sarcastic quality to my compliment._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> savhalla - hello, greetings.  
> Telam, bradh’ajuelan – bad, baker.  
> [Credit to Project Elvhen for vocabulary.]
> 
> The song Isii is listening to is She-Wolf by Shakira.
> 
> Shout-out to a prompter who gave me a very similar idea for the "photos of the artwork" line. While I didn't exactly do the same scenario, hopefully it still satisfies. :)


	7. Behind Closed Doors

“Alright, Dags. You have my full and undivided attention.”

Dagna swiveled in her chair, grinning as Isii approached the table. “Ah! Good! You’re here. Gimme a sec, lemme…” She rummaged around for her keys, rolling her chair over to a nearby cabinet. She unlocked it with ease, gently pulling out a plastic bag covered in coded labels. “Ok, so, here’s the thing,” she began, scooting back to the table as she carefully opened the bag. Gloved fingers dipped inside, delicately pulling out a thin disk of corroded metal. “I was cleaning this off, right? Someone in the field originally ID’d it as a piece that broke off of someone’s armor, but I don’t see how it could be. It shows no signs that it ever had a way to fasten onto anything and the edge looks like it used to be smooth all the way around, not snapped off of anything.”

“You got an extra pair?” Isii asked, wiggling her bare fingers.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Dagna handed her a pair of gloves and Isii slipped them on, carefully picking up the disk and holding it to the light. “So I got to thinking, maybe the image that’s etched into it is some kind of sigil? I mean, it’s got that dragony thingy in the center-”

“It’s not a dragon,” Isii muttered distractedly. “It’s a wolf.”

Dagna frowned. “You sure?”

Isii lowered the item, slowly tracing her finger around the image. The figure’s head remained intact, though most of the body was obscured by corrosion. “The triangular shapes here are ears, not horns. Sometimes they represented wolves with exaggerated teeth and very short, thick snouts. Usually it meant the figure was supposed to be the Dread Wolf rather than just an animal.” She peered at the Elvish lettering that surrounded it, frowning. “From the script, I’d say it was a contemporary piece to your dig site, rather than some relic they brought with them from before. I’d want to try and take a stab at transcribing what’s written here at some point.”

“Yeah, definitely. So… what do you think it could be?”

Isii turned it over in her hands. “Not sure exactly. It was probably used for some religious purpose, but the image and time period don’t really match up all that well.”

“How so?” Dagna asked, tilting her head. “Sorry if it’s a dumb question. Elvhen religion really isn’t my field.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s why I’m here,” Isii said. “You know the whole Great Betrayer thing, right?”

“Yeah. Like he’s an evil god or something?”

“Right,” Isii said with a nod. “But even though we don’t worship him, you’ll still see graven images of him among the Dalish.” She hooked her finger around the thin black cord hanging around her neck, fishing a pendant from beneath her shirt – a simple metal piece with the black silhouette of a wolf embedded in it. “He shows up mostly on tokens that are supposed to ward off enemies.”

“Scare off the scary thing with an even bigger, scarier thing?”

“Kind of. But there was a time when there were whole temples dedicated to him. By all appearances, he was worshiped just like any one of the other Creators. Getting from that to this,” she said, gesturing with the pendant, “happens over time. We’re not sure what sparked it, but Fen’Harel worship disappears entirely at one point. He slowly re-emerges as an exclusively menacing figure, but it takes generations for that to happen.

“The time period is what makes this a bit strange,” she said, returning to the disk. “Your dig site should date back to when the empire was in collapse. It’s too late for this to be some sort of symbol of worship and too early for it to be a warding sigil. The borders of Elvhenan had already retreated towards Arlathan, leaving this settlement well outside of its influence. I suppose it’s possible that we’re looking at some sort of cult, some sect that was separated from the culture as a whole.”

Dagna hummed in confusion, shrugging. “Maybe once you get the text deciphered you’ll have a better idea of what it was for.”

“Yeah…” Isii said distractedly, peering at the artifact. “Do you mind if I hold onto this for a bit? Translating is going to take some time.”

“No problem,” she said. “It’s not like I can make any progress with it on my own.”

“Hey, Dagna.” A distracted voice cut in from the hallway, causing the two women to turn towards the door. Kenric shuffled in, his eyes downcast on the papers he held in his hands. “I was wondering if you could help me sort through the… oh.” He stopped, noticing Isii. “Oh, sorry. Was I interrupting?”

“I think we were pretty much done here,” Dagna said, glancing at the elf. “We good?”

“I’ve got what I need.” Isii quickly slipped the disk back into its bag, sealing it. “I’ll let you know when I’ve gotten that translation taken care of.” She flashed a brief smile to the professor before shifting past him, disappearing down the hall.

***

She tapped her pen absentmindedly, frowning at the paper in front of her.

Transcribing the letters that remained on the disk wasn’t too difficult. Translating was an entirely different matter. All it took was a few missing words and Elvish turned into something akin to gibberish, a list of words with little to tie them together.

She continued to drum with her pen as her eyes drifted back to the disk. Was it really evidence of some Cult of Fen’Harel? Little was known about the change in the Dread Wolf’s religious significance between ancient and modern times. It was always something she found puzzling. The artifact could offer some insight, if she was willing to use more _advanced_ research techniques.

Isii bit her lip before slipping her phone out of her pocket.

She didn’t want to make a habit of this, but her curiosity had to be sated.

***

Varric was staring idly out of the window, the cab jostling him as a familiar chime rang from his jacket. He slipped his hand into the hidden breast pocket, pushing his sunglasses down to peer over them, reading the screen.

**_1 New Message: Stormy_ **

He tapped it open quickly.

**_[Stormy]: Do you have a shipment for Blondie handy?_ **

He arched his brow, thick fingers typing back.

**_I do._ **

**_[Stormy]: Any way some of it could fall off the back of a truck for me?_ **

Varric frowned, his brow growing tight.

**_I don’t want this to become a regular thing._ **

**_A favor for a friend is one thing._ **

**_But don’t act like I’m your dealer._ **

**_[Stormy]: It’s for a good cause, I swear._ **

**_[Stormy]: All in the name of science._ **

**_[Stormy]: Can I count on you?_ **

Varric considered it for a moment, glancing back out of the window. He supposed he could hit up his supplier after his meeting, then arrange a rendezvous to give Isii the goods. It would keep him from having to take multiple trips.

**_Can we do a hand off this afternoon? I’m in the neighborhood today._ **

**_[Stormy]: Just tell me when/where and I’m there._ **

**_[Stormy]: Thank you for this._ **

**_[Stormy]: It’s a huge help._ **

 “What did you say the address was again?” the cab driver asked, slowing to peer at the passing street numbers. Varric scanned the curbside, reading the signs that scrolled by. A bookshop, a tattoo parlor, a café…

“Here’s fine,” he said. The cabbie nodded, pulling over. The dwarf slipped a folded bill between his fingers, tapping him on the shoulder with it as he popped open the door. “Keep the change.”

He stepped out onto the sidewalk, hands in his pockets as he strolled toward his destination. This wasn’t a part of the city he moved through often. It was a commercial district that catered mostly to the university students. Not far enough uptown for the real movers and shakers to do much more than simply pass through, but still a number of blocks north from the shadier shit that the impoverished and desperate citizens of Val Royeaux would get up to.

Not that he judged them for it, of course. If he did, he wouldn’t be in this line of work.

He pushed past the bakery door, noting the empty tables. He frowned. Apparently his mystery contractor was running late. The elf behind the counter eyed him appraisingly before straightening his posture.

“Master Tethras, I presume?” the bald man said smoothly. “It is good to know you keep your appointments.”

 _Master, huh?_ Varric chuckled a little to hear the odd title as he approached the counter. “I guess that means you’re this Solas I’m supposed to meet up with?”

“One and the same,” he said with a nod. Varric didn’t really know what he was expecting, though he didn’t go into the bakery thinking he’d be meeting with someone who worked there. At least the choice of locale made more sense now. Solas turned, calling a name into the back room until a woman appeared. “Mind the counter, Sera. I need to retire to my office for a time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” the elf grumbled as she took a seat on the stool nearby.

“If you’d follow me,” Solas said with a gesture before disappearing into the back. Varric trailed behind him through the bakery’s kitchen, taking a seat in a small office as the elf secured the door behind them.

“So, what’s this about, precisely?” Varric asked as the man lowered himself into a chair behind a neat and orderly desk. “You’ve really gone out of your way if you’re just looking for an autograph.”

The man’s smile was small. Patient. “As amusing as your fictions are, I am far more interested in your other line of work – as you well know by now.”

“Yeah. Kinda hard not to notice.” He shifted in his seat, leaning against the chair’s arm. “I have to say, I’m a bit curious how you managed to track down some of the gentlemen I have in my employ. That’s not exactly public knowledge.”

“I would hope not, as that would make them very ineffective informants.” Solas folded his hands in front of him, eyeing the dwarf. “As for how I learned of them, I have my own means. You need not worry. I have no intention of passing that information along to anyone else.”

“That’s appreciated.”

“I presume you’ve read over the terms of my proposal?”

Varric’s eyes narrowed. “I did. Though I’m not exactly clear on why you wanted me for this.”

“You are a businessman, are you not?” he asked, his brows lifting. “I am in the market for supplies and information, both of which you have access to. There are others in your position, true. Other routes I could take to achieve the same ends. Your reputation describes you as one of the few honest men in the business – or at least as honest as one can be in your chosen profession. And I have little patience for involving myself with some Carta thug who feels it is necessary to flash a gun in order to make up for his shortcomings.” He paused a moment before adding “Pardoning the expression, of course.”

“Of course,” Varric said dryly. He scratched at his chin, looking around the office. “This whole bakery thing then… just a cover?”

The man smiled. “I would not say that. I take pride in all the work I do, humble or otherwise. I simply know certain people who could make use of what you can get for me.”

“You’re some kind of middle man?”

“I nudge things along when I feel it is necessary.” He quietly unlocked a drawer on his desk, pulling out a thick envelope. “We have yet to negotiate price. Consider this a gesture of good faith,” he said, setting the parcel down. “A down payment with the rest to come once I have what I need.”

Varric glanced at the envelope, picking it up cautiously. He thumbed through the bills, resisting the urge to whistle softly to himself. Apparently the baking business was booming.

“One time deal, then we’re done?” Varric asked.

“As simple as that.”

He eyed the elf for a long moment before offering his hand. “Then I look forward to working together.”

Solas’s eyes narrowed as he accepted the handshake. “Likewise, I’m sure,” he said plainly.

***

It was generally accepted that Dreamers were simply a myth. Isii had no reason to believe otherwise as there appeared to be little evidence that anyone could move through the Fade without some form of assistance. The elves wrote about the process extensively, but it was always assumed that they simply neglected to go into detail about the methods they used to achieve consciousness in the Fade. The vague references to “burned sacred herbs” were never elaborated on in the texts.

That’s where the lyrium came into play.

She was still an undergrad when she first had the idea. She could try to recreate the process of accessing memories in the Fade that the ancient texts described if she combined it with the Circle of Magi’s research in lyrium-induced fade walking. The Circles tried to keep a tight lid on such information, but you could find just about anything on the internet if you knew where to look. It took some trial and error, but if she took a high enough dose and focused her energy on an object, she could usually bring up some vision relating to it. Sometimes they were informative, other times more mundane.

Either way, she found the entire process fascinating.

Isii cleared off her coffee table, carefully retrieving the artifact from her purse and slipping it out of its protective plastic. She arranged the pillows on her couch, setting her phone to silent. Next, she pulled out the three vials of lyrium she’d gotten that afternoon. The doses were generous, the blue liquid catching the light, emitting their own soft glow.

She’d have to take them in quick succession and be ready for the aftermath. The high came quickly and she needed to be able to maintain her focus if this was going to work. She brushed her fingers lightly over the metal disk, pulling from the Veil as she imbued her touch with magic.

She took a deep breath, uncorking the first vial.

“All in the pursuit of knowledge,” she muttered to herself before dumping the contents down her throat.


	8. Da'len

Isii couldn’t help but smile as the lyrium sang through her blood. The feeling was incredible. Exhilarating. The world was brighter, somehow. She could feel her heart racing, energy surging through every pore. With a dose this high, she could practically taste the thrum of magic on her lips. She sank back into the cushions of her couch, humming softly as she let her hands fold against her stomach.

Dipping into the Fade was not something she claimed to have any proficiency with. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing she learned among the Dalish and it wasn’t as if she could ask the Circle of Magi to kindly assist her in being more efficient with her apostasy. Besides, even if she could get their advice, they wouldn’t be able to help her peer into the memories of lingering spirits. From everything she could tell, no one was actively seeking contact with spirits. All modern literature on the subject emphatically proclaimed that what she was doing now was not only foolish but deadly. She was practically begging to become possessed.

But the lure of catching glimpses into the past was just too tempting to pass up on.

It didn’t take long before she awoke in the Fade. It was always such a disorienting place. The world felt fuzzy in a strange sort of way, a haze of greenish gold coloring her vision. Pieces of buildings lined the horizon, architecture both ancient and new stitched together as if centuries didn’t separate them. The couch she laid on resembled her own, yet the table beside her looked as though it dated back to the Blessed Age. The rather tacky lamp that sat upon it looked wildly out of place against the ancient and elegantly carved wood. If the theories were correct, the spirits tried their best to imitate and rebuild the waking world here through the bits and pieces they saw. Admittedly, they weren’t doing a very convincing job. 

This glimpse of the Fade was brief, however. Soon, a spirit was drawn by her intent and the world began to shift. The effect was dizzying as she pushed herself to her feet. It felt as though the ground beneath her had suddenly started tipping and swaying like a boat on rough water. Even so, she maintained her focus, picturing the artifact in her mind, and soon an image began to form.

She could hear the soft shushing of a rainstorm. A small grove took shape around her, encircled by trees in the middle of what appeared to be a dense wood. A figure knelt before a simple stone altar, their head bowed as the steady droplets fell upon them. Isii could hear the murmur of a voice but the sound was distant, echoing, so quiet that she could not make out any of the words. She drew closer, the vision gradually solidifying around her. She could see the figure was an older elven woman, her lips working feverishly over a prayer. There, on the altar before her, was the small metallic disk. The figure of the Dread Wolf was complete now, the image not worn away by time but freshly cast and shining brilliantly as the raindrops danced along its surface.

The woman’s voice slowly gained some clarity. The Elvhen words came so quickly that Isii could barely make any sense of them, yet they gradually shifted, twisting in her mind. She couldn’t tell whether the spirit was changing the vision to suit her understanding or changing her to make her better understand. Either way, the woman’s prayer transitioned smoothly into Common. “I do not expect you to remember me, my Lord. We spoke only once. But I beg you to do me the honor once more and hear what I have to say.” Her brow was furrowed, her voice shaking as she clutched her hands together, pressing them to her chin. “This curse spreads among us like a plague. We do not know its cause or why some are affected while others are not. Yet death comes so quickly for so many of us now. The young ones forget so much and each day there are less of us left to guide them….” She stopped, her throat catching. She sounded near tears as her eyes closed. “Your people need you, Fen’Harel,” she whispered. “ _I need you._ Please give me some sort of sign that you have not forsaken us…”

“He can’t hear you, you know.”

Isii turned as the old woman lifted her head, both of them staring in the direction of the young elven man who leaned against a nearby tree. Unlike the elderly woman, his face was marked with vallaslin. There was a strange haze around him that Isii didn’t know what to make of; a subtle shimmer along his shoulders as he stepped into the clearing. When he drew closer to the altar, Isii could see the faint cascade of raindrops hitting what appeared to be a barrier around his form. He picked the disk up, flipping it idly between his fingers as he inspected it. Soon, he shrugged, tossing it into the grass. “It’s nothing more than some meaningless trinket.”

Despite his nonchalance, the woman dove for the disk, quickly picking it up and wiping away the mud. His violet eyes looked almost pitying as he watched her clutch it to her chest, staring up at him.

“He’d listen to you.”

The man scoffed. “A flattering notion.”

“You could search for him in the Beyond, go into your dreams and seek him out…”

“You assume I haven’t already tried?” The woman let out a defeated sigh, lowering her head again. The man’s brow furrowed as he crouched before her, tilting her chin up with his fingers. “We do not even know if he is sleeping, da’len.” Isii was taken aback by his choice of endearment. The woman looked old enough to be his grandmother. To address an elder as da’len was incredibly disrespectful - but the old woman didn’t even bat an eye. “Our prayers have gone unanswered for a very long time,” he continued. “Sitting out here in the rain isn’t going to change that.”

Her face twisted, her eyes glistening. “I don’t know how much longer I have…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze lowering as she shuddered.

“Nonsense,” he said softly. His fingers played over a damp greyed curl, pushing it from her wrinkled brow. “You don’t look a day older than when I met you.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked up into his face once more, her lips pursed. “I was twelve.”

He chuckled, the lines of his vallaslin curling as he grinned. “Alright. A bit of an exaggeration, I’ll grant you that.”

She smiled weakly. “Felasil,” she muttered.

“That’s more like it.” His laugh brightened as he took her hand, rising to his feet. “Come, Farenera. Let’s get you dried off.”

The vision was fading. Isii could feel it tremble around her, shifting and twisting until the pair of elves were nothing more than hazy shapes of shadow and light that began to disperse. She could feel herself waking and she blindly groped for the notebook she kept on her coffee table. She had to write as much down as she could, otherwise she might forget. She rolled herself upright, bleary-eyed as she began to scribble half-legible letters.

 

> _Debate over relevance – useless trinket or conduit for Dread Wolf to hear prayers?_
> 
> _Non-consistent use of vallaslin._
> 
> _She said she spoke to Dread Wolf before – simply a reference to a prayer answered or literal conversation with something/someone? A god? A spirit? Something else?_
> 
> _Do not know if he sleeps?? Uthenera?? Unfamiliar with any relevant lore. Research later._
> 
> _Curse/plague. Unknown source. Effects some, not others. Fatal._
> 
> _Strange use of “da’len.”_

Isii paused, glancing groggily over the last two lines until slowly recognizing their significance. _No. No, it couldn’t be._ But the time period was right. It would explain a young man calling an old woman a child. It would explain a fatal sickness without explanation. An awestruck smile curled over her lips.

 _The quickening,_ she thought, excitement bubbling up in her chest _. I just saw evidence of the quickening_.

She was certain she looked foolish as she sat there grinning at the page, but the revelation left her feeling elated. The concept of the quickening and elven immortality was a hotly debated issue. The Dalish still believed it was true; the shemlen stole eternal life from them along with everything else. But everything Isii had encountered in her studies among the humans told her that it was nothing more than a myth. As much as she wanted to believe, even her faith in that story had been waning over the years.

But now she had proof.

 _Well, sort of._ She couldn’t exactly declare it to anyone else. Even if her methods of obtaining the vision weren’t illegal, it would simply be her word against centuries of shemlen academia. In terms of convincing anyone else, it was useless.

But now she knew. Being able to uncover that piece of their past, to know the answer to that mystery with such certainty, left her feeling giddy. The vision still hadn’t told her much about the artifact, nor the settlement that it came from, but she was thrilled nonetheless.

She glanced at her phone to check the time. _Damn._ It was nearly nine o’clock. She took the lyrium right when she got home around six, yet it felt as though she’d only been asleep a few minutes at most. She swiped her lock screen as she padded over to her kitchen – or, rather, the alcove her landlord referred to as a “kitchen”. In truth, it was little more than one wall with the sink, fridge, stove, microwave and dishwasher all crammed together and a couple cabinets that probably should have been replaced a few decades ago. If it weren’t for the salvaged table she had beside it, she’d have no place to actually prepare food. The table was a good find, though she had to do a lot of sweet talking to convince Dorian to help her carry it away from the dumpster she found it next to. Getting it up the stairwell earned her an earful. He’d threatened to set it on fire and leave it there more than once on that trip.

She tapped the New Voicemail notification, slipping it into Speaker Mode as she began to evaluate the contents of her fridge.

_First New Message, Sent Today At Seven Twenty-three PM:_

_“Good evening, Miss Isi’i’vhenana Lavellan,”_ a sweet, feminine voice began. Isii silently gave her credit for pronouncing her name correctly through her thick Antivan accent. _“I am calling on behalf of La Conférence Internationale in regards to the Opening Ceremony Gala. We still have yet to receive your RSVP for the event. In order for us to make the final arrangements, please contact me as soon as possible with information regarding how many representatives you plan to have in your party as well as whether or not you will have any additional guests. If you have any questions, please call-”_

Isii tapped her phone. She’d deal with that later. She set her the device down on the table, listening as she bent down to retrieve some leftover take-out that had been shoved toward the back.

_Message Saved. Next New Message, Sent Today At Eight Fourteen PM:_

At first, there was silence, then a throat being cleared. _“So. This is… well.”_ Isii paused, glancing warily at her phone. Cullen sounded hesitant before starting again. _“I’m not really sure what to say that won’t make me sound like some sort of jerk. I know I probably should have stopped trying well before now, but I’d hoped…”_ He let out a small huff. _“That doesn’t matter. I know you’ve been avoiding me. I can’t say I know why, but I can take a hint. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or… I mean, I thought everything went… well?”_ Isii’s stomach sank in the brief silence. _“Apparently I got the wrong impression and I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. As much as I’d rather you talk to me directly about it, I know you don’t owe me any sort of explanation. So I’ll back off and stop trying. Just…”_ His voice got quiet all of a sudden, muttering, barely intelligible. _“Maker, how do I say this? I liked having you as a friend. I would hate to think that I ruined that somehow. If you… If you change your mind and decide to get back in touch with me, I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you. I’d hope you wouldn’t assume I’m some asshole who would only be friends with you in order to try and… be more than that.”_ There was another long pause and the rustling of his phone moving. _“I guess that’s all I really wanted to say. So… goodbye.”_

_To Save This Message, Press Seven. To Delete It-_

Isii hit her phone, letting out a long sigh.

_Message Deleted. End of New Messages._

She couldn’t help but feel terrible. Maybe she should have handled things differently with him. But what excuse could she make? As kind as he was, as much as she liked him, she couldn’t risk him discovering she was an apostate. She’d rather die than be sent to a Circle.

She popped her leftovers into the microwave, trying to redirect her focus to the artifact. As illuminating as the vision had been, it still didn’t address many of the questions she sought answers to. It confirmed that there was Dread Wolf worship in a place and time where it shouldn’t be and the disk was seen as some sort of icon used in prayer. She couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something.

***

Solas glanced down curiously as his phone buzzed, vibrating sharply against his nightstand. He let his book’s pages rest against his chest, flicking open the new message.

**_[Lan’sila]: How much to do you know about Elvhen religious practices?_ **

He couldn’t help but scoff, his brow lifting as he typed.

**_I’m quite familiar, despite a noted lack of interest. Why?_ **

Her response came a few moments later.

**_[Lan’sila]: Multi-Media Message. File Sent: IMG_387.jpg. Click to View._ **

His eyes narrowed as he opened it. He could recognize the familiar shape of her hand, delicate fingers holding a small metal disk roughly the size of a saucer. Though the design was not completely familiar to him, he knew precisely what it was. Below, she had written: **_Any thoughts about this?_**

He hesitated. Yes, he certainly had thoughts about it. It was a superstitious token that represented little more than a man wearing the mask of a god to suit his own purposes. He knew he could not respond with that, however. He studied the picture. The background behind it was blurred, but he could see what looked like a small table with a few personal items on it – a notepad with some indecipherable scribbling, a couple books, a wine glass. He could see the hint of a colorful but well-worn rug. 

 ** _Not exactly what I would expect you to have casually sitting around your home,_** he finally typed back.

**_The background looks far more like a living room than an office, unless I am mistaken._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: I may or may not have slipped this away from work._ **

**_Curious._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: What is?_ **

He paused again. He could not ignore the irony in her looking to him for information about one of his own icons. There couldn’t be any meaning behind that. Purely circumstantial. Still, it was odd.

**_Do you make a habit of pilfering ancient objects that are not yours?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: I didn’t steal it. :P_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: It’s going right back into the collection tomorrow._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: I was curious. Wanted to do some off-the-clock research._ **

**_And you thought I would be of assistance?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: You’re the one claiming to be an expert._ **

True. He couldn’t argue with that. Had he not invited such questioning?

**_From my understanding, it is little more than a token._ **

**_Similar to the icons of Andraste used by traditionalists within the Chantry._ **

**_Either as objects they could direct prayers to or talismans offering protection._ **

There was a delay in her response. Soon, his phone buzzed again.

**_[Lan’sila]: Multi-Media Message. File Sent: IMG_388.jpg. Click to View._ **

He stilled, studying the picture intently once it loaded. The subject of the image was a small silver pendant that hung from a simple black cord. The silhouette of a wolf’s head was stamped into it, darkened with some sort of enamel. Even though his eye was meant to linger there, he could not help but study the familiar line of her throat, the ridge of her collarbone as the necklace rested against it, the few undone buttons of her blouse. There was nothing salacious in her posturing, yet it was alluring nonetheless. It felt somewhat voyeuristic to find himself so focused on her skin, wondering if it was as soft as it appeared.

No. That wasn’t what he should be thinking about.

The message below it read: **_So, like this?_**

Did she regularly wear an icon of Fen’Harel around her neck? He had never noticed it before, though she could have easily hidden it beneath her clothing.

It was another odd coincidence, to say the least.

He was typing his reply to her when a new message came in. He frowned, opening it.

**_[B]: Where are those supplies you promised?_ **

He let out a slow, irritated breath, switching back to his _Lan’sila_.

**_I was unaware the Dalish still maintained such a practice._ **

**_I would imagine the intent is similar, though the connotation is likely different._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: My Keeper gave it to me when I left my clan to attend uni._ **

**_[Lan’sila]: A reminder to be wary. To keep my wits about me. To not be too trusting._ **

**_Ah._ **

**_Then yes, the meaning is quite different._ **

**_Or so I suspect._ **

His phone buzzed again.

**_[B]: You need to start holding up your end of the bargain._ **

His brow furrowed, lips pursed as he sent a reply to this new message.

**_A bargain implies that I am getting something in return._ **

**_I am not._ **

The response was fired back quickly. He could practically see the woman typing furiously on her phone.

**_[B]: Securing our rights, freedom from oppression for our people…_ **

**_[B]: Do not act like you are not going to benefit from this._ **

**_[B]: We all will. That’s the point._ **

He let out a short huff, a sharp crease forming across the bridge of his nose as he switched back to his previous conversation.

**_My apologies, Lan’sila. Something has come up._ **

**_Can we continue this another time?_ **

**_[Lan’sila]: Sure. Maybe I’ll even squeeze in a visit to the shop tomorrow. ;)_ **

He smiled weakly. **_I hope to see you then._**

The warmth in his expression was short-lived as his phone vibrated once more.

**_[B]: We need those supplies._ **

**_[B]: And the blueprints that you promised._ **

His eyes narrowed as he typed. **_Patience, da’len._**

**_[B]: There was only one man who could call me that._ **

**_[B]: You are not him._ **

**_[B]: Do not forget that._ **

**_You will receive what I have promised._ **

**_[B]: I don’t want vague assurances._ **

**_[B]: I want to know when._ **

He scowled, his jaw tightening.

**_I would not recommend making demands of a mysterious benefactor._ **

**_Otherwise you run the risk of never hearing from them again._ **

**_[B]: Is that a threat?_ **

**_Merely a reminder of the nature of our relationship._ **

**_I offer my aid and you accept it._ **

**_But it continues to be on my own terms._ **

**_You will receive what I promised when it is made available to me and no sooner._ **

With that, he set his phone down, returning to his book. Her impatience was starting to get on his nerves. He questioned whether or not it was wise to continue to assist her. This task required a patient and deft hand and yet she appeared to grow more eager to take action with each conversation.

His phone continued to rattle against the top of his nightstand periodically. Eventually he picked it up, setting it to silent.

She would have to learn to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Felasil – fool. Particularly amusing choice of words if you’ve figured out who he is…
> 
>  
> 
> And in case you didn't get my even more obscure cameo, Farenera was Saros's friend in Var Hellathen - and the one who delivered the jawbone necklace to Fen'Harel.


	9. Sweet Tooth

Isii curled herself into the corner of the heavily padded chair, blocking out the noise of the student lounge as she flipped through the baker’s book. She’d been keeping it in her purse, tackling it bit by bit in the idle moments of her days and was finally nearing the end. She was in the middle of a chapter on the relationship between Creators worship and the proto-elvhen pantheon when she frowned, smoothing her fingers over the handwritten notes she found scrawled in the margins of the page. His penmanship was neat and orderly, though obviously written with haste as he underlined passages, annotating them as he went along. _Funny,_ she thought. He didn’t strike her as someone who would mark his books. So far there hadn’t been so much as a creased corner, let alone writing in it. She continued to read:

“But what of the legends that predate the Creators? While records are even more scarce as we seek to understand a time that existed before the founding of Elvhenan, we do find some hints that suggest the foundation of elvhen faith was not as consistent as we previously believed. There were stories of spirits and deities that appear to have been at some point merged or altogether abandoned for the sake of these new gods. The being associated with fire, later called Sylaise, ranged from man to woman to non-gendered entity. It was a fierce bear-like creature in one tale and a meek child in the next. Deceivers appear in nearly all mythologies and this proto-elvhen lore is no exception. Yet these early tales lack the distinctive lycanthropic imagery attached to the betrayer Fen’Harel. Earlier tricksters were shown as helpful, harmless, and altogether toothless compared to the monstrous being the elves seemed so keen to worship. Perhaps a reflection of their character as a race that they would wish to praise something they find so inherently fearsome and ruthless?” The last two lines were underlined hastily with a note scribbled in the margin.

_Author slips into unnecessary bias. Disregards changes to both the language and legend that occurred in Towers Age. The simplest of searches would have enlightened him in this regard. Ignores facts in favor of racial prejudice that has little to do with the subject at hand. I should not be surprised._

Isii hummed a soft chuckle under her breath. She agreed with his point, however. Any historian who claimed enough expertise on the religious practices of Elvhenan to write a book on the subject should know the meaning of _harellan_ changed in the Towers Age - thus altering the fundamental understanding of Fen’Harel’s name. To be fair, it wasn’t something she learned until she went to university. She was raised to fear him, just like any other Dalish child. Still - it was a sloppy mistake on the author’s behalf.

“As a precursor to the merging of these faiths into the more familiar form of the Creators, we see a startling amount of archeological variance, from styles of adornment to pottery techniques. Yet variety gives way to uniformity around the same time as the historical record begins to mention Elgar’nan and his progeny.”

Progeny was underlined. _An annoying oversimplification._

“This shift implies cultural unity where there had not been any before – and a rather sudden change in religious beliefs virtually overnight. It implies a dramatic turning point, rather than a gradual transition. This isn’t the cultural exchange of trade relations. This is what one would expect in the aftermath of a startlingly efficient conquering force that convinced all in their wake to unite into one people. Perhaps these Creators were once nothing more than warlords, mere mortals-” Mortals was crossed out. “-who sought to unify what was once a varied cultural landscape under a single rule. It would explain the sudden abandonment of established mythology in favor of a new pantheon. The question is, did these men and women demand their worship, or did the people hold such adoration for the immensity of their power and achievements that their stories preserved them as gods after their deaths?”

The text ended there, continuing on the next page. At the very bottom, he’d written a final note. _Flawed - but closer than most._

She flipped the page, but the notes ended there. She glanced over them again, her brow arching.

_You are an odd one, baker._

“Please tell me that’s not one of ours.” She startled slightly, glancing up as Dorian leaned over her shoulder, looking suspiciously down at the baker’s notes.

“Not a library book,” she said, marking her place and tucking it back into her purse. “Got it on loan from a friend.”

“Oh, please,” he said dryly, smirking, “you don’t have any friends.”

She scoffed, slinging the purse strap over her shoulder as she got up from her seat. “Says the guy who won’t call the _friend_ I’m trying to hook him up with.”

He fell into step with her as they headed toward the parking lot. “The day you successfully play matchmaker for me is the day I die strictly so I can roll over in my grave.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Ass,” she muttered.

“I believe the word you were looking for is charming,” he said with a grin, hooking his arm with her own. “Do get it right next time.”

“I really think you’d like him.”

Dorian didn’t look convinced. “You found him in a bar.”

“Oh come on!” she laughed, shaking her head. “Now you’re just making excuses.”

“You’re right. Silly me. I should have lead with ‘he’s a Qunari, what in the Void were you thinking?’ What about me makes you think I’d want to be with some stoic, unfeeling, humorless cardboard cut-out with horns? I don’t care that they tend to have abs like steel, it’s really not worth it to be with someone who is completely devoid of personality.”

She chuckled. “Trust me, he’s _really_ not like that.”

“Meet one, you’ve met them all.”

“Such a progressive thinker, Mr. Pavus,” she teased. “For a second there I’d almost mistake you for one of your countrymen. After all – meet one Vint-”

He brushed her off with a wave of his hand. “Yes, yes. You’ve made your point – though it is hardly the same in this instance.”

Isii’s phone chimed loudly. She slipped her hand in her pocket, stealing a moment to glance at the new text message.

**_[The Baker]: I enjoyed our conversation last night. You have a very interesting perspective, Lan’sila. I look forward to the next time you decide to call._ **

She yelped slightly, surprised as her phone was yanked out of her hand. “And what, pray tell, has put that dopey grin on your face?” She reached to retrieve the device, but Dorian raised it out of her reach, slipping his arm away from her grip.

“Hey!”

“Consider this a temporary confiscation for leaving your ringer on in the library.”

“We’re no longer in the library.”

“But clearly you had it on before,” he teased. “I take my job very seriously.” He scanned the screen’s contents. “Lan’sila?”

“It means someone who learns. An intellectual woman.”

“A pet name, of sorts?”

She shrugged. “I suppose so. I haven’t told him my name, so that’s what he decided to call me.”

He huffed slightly. “And what’s this about last night?”

“Just a chat about the book he lent me.” Dorian hummed distractedly as he scrolled through their previous conversation. “Seriously, Dorian, give it back.”

“Why? Something you’re embarrassed to let me see?” he asked with a smirk. “I’d hope you’d at least have him take you out to dinner before exchanging nude selfies.”

She snorted, coughing to try and cover it. “No. Nothing like that, I just-”

“Maker’s Breath,” he muttered. “This has to be some of the nerdiest flirting I have ever seen.”

She snatched the phone out of his hand, her eyes narrowing. “Oh please,” she began. “You know me when I’m flirting. This,” she said, wiggling her phone, “is tame.”

“Practically virginal, by your standards.” She stuck her tongue out briefly, sneering as he fished his keys out of his pocket. “Still, there’s an obscene number of messages in there,” he said, reaching forward to unlock his car door. “How often do the two of you carry on like that?”

“A couple times a day,” she said with a shrug. Dorian’s brows lifted. “I like him. We have a lot of common interests.”

“That’s what you said about the Templar,” Dorian whispered. Isii frowned.

“That’s different,” she said, climbing into the car once she heard the click of the lock disengaging. “And that issue has been settled. I’d rather just move on.”

Dorian chuckled, starting up the car. “Fine, fine. Have it your way.” He idled for a moment, prodding at his radio before settling on a station. They listened to music for a time as he drove, saying nothing.

Isii frowned as he made an unfamiliar turn. “Why take Rue de Chevin? I thought we were headed back to my place.”

“Eventually.”

Her brow arched. “Eventually?”

“I’ve decided on a slight detour. It’s not as if we don’t have plenty of time.”

Her frown deepened. “Dorian, where are you taking me?”

“I find I suddenly have a sweet tooth,” he said with a grin, glancing over to her. “It’s right down the street from that cafe you’re always hitting up, correct?”

She groaned, rubbing her forehead. “If you embarrass me, so help me…”

“Me? Embarrassing?!” he asked in mock horror. “Now where would you _ever_ get an idea like that?”

***

**From the Twitter Feed of “Mai Bhalsych” (@beesandbreeches):**

> 50 mins ago: **Learned the key to bein' on phone at work - just be on damn phone at work. Boss eventually got sick of yellin' at me. #winning**
> 
> 48 mins ago: **Sigh all you want, mate. Judgy stares aren't gonna do shite. #Annoyingmybossforfunsies**
> 
> 31 mins ago: **Elfy Dealies came back. Brought friend. Code name: Hipster Stache. #wtf #whyisitsocurly?**
> 
> 30 mins ago: **Pfpfpfpphphh. I swear boss-man gets a hard on whenever she talks stupid elfie not-words.**
> 
> 29 mins ago: **These two just need to do it already. #elvenglory**
> 
> 21 mins ago: **Retweeted from @MadameSaltyTits: “@beesandbreeches Your boss doesn’t read your tweets, does he?” You think I’d give a shit if he did?**
> 
> 20 mins ago: **Hipster Stache says Elfie Dealies talks about bossman all the time. Dealies looks like she’s ready to kill. Or hide. Prolly kill.**
> 
> 15 mins ago: **Stache is asking about a phone call with Dealies. So bossman has her number? Bet that’s why he’s always on his phone. Liar.**
> 
> 10 minutes ago: **She’s trying to rush hipster-face through ordering. Pfft.**
> 
> 3 mins ago: **Hipster Stache just invited bossman out with them tonight. Drinks with friends or some shite. Will he do it?**
> 
> 2 mins ago: **No. Of course he fucking won’t. Cause he’s boring as shit.**

The pair paid for their food, settling at her usual table in the corner of the shop. Sera glanced up from her phone as Solas cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

“Don’t you have work to do?” She shrugged, returning her attention to her Twitter app. “Sera-”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Alright,” she grumbled, shoving the device in her pocket. “But I’m not scrubbin’ all that shite myself.”

***

Isii watched as the two elves disappeared into the back room. “You are an absolute terror,” she muttered to Dorian. He laughed warmly, sinking his teeth into his cream horn, struggling to keep the filling from sticking to his moustache.

“What?” he asked, chewing. “Would you really be so upset if he joined us tonight?”

“No,” she whispered, “but you made me sound like I’m obsessive or something.”

“You’re overthinking it,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m sure he found it flattering.”

“You’re a tit.”

He hummed. “Not your best insult. I’d workshop that one a bit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: As far as the history is concerned, the only thing that comes from canon is the shift in meaning in harellan. The root of the word goes from being associated with rebellion to being used to mean a traitor in the Towers Age. Otherwise, the other history is all speculation. I wouldn’t say it’s my headcanon, but rather the speculation of the historian writing the text.


	10. Drunk Dial

Merrill grinned, talking excitedly with her hands. “Ooh, is he cute?”

Isii parted her lips to speak but Dorian answered before she had the chance. “He’s _passable_ at best,” he shouted over the music. The bar was loud – not the sort of place one holds deep conversations, but they could hear each other well enough.

Isii frowned, her eyes narrowing. “He’s much better looking than just passable.” She smiled, arching her brow as she brought her drink up to her lips. “He’s got a bit of a silver fox thing going for him.”

“I think he has to actually have hair for that analogy to work.”

“I’ll have you know that elves have a long history of finding baldness attractive,” she said with a laugh. “It’s you shems who freak out the second your hairline starts to recede.”

Merrill did not seem deterred by Dorian’s lack of enthusiasm. “Oh but I bet he’s sweet. You make him sound sweet. And you said he’s interested in elven history?”

Isii nodded. “Passionately. You know those giant frescos they uncovered in Rivain a few years ago? He’s got one of the walls of his shop done up in that style.”

“I’ll have to stop in there sometime!”

“You should,” she encouraged. “His elven treats taste like home.”

“Just don’t tell him Isii’s name or apparently you’ll ruin her fun,” Dorian said dryly, sipping his brandy as she shot him a look. Merrill eyed the two of them, confused.

“Come again?”

“We’ve got this… _thing_ ,” Isii said, shrugging as she finished her drink. “It’s a bit of a game between us now. I wouldn’t tell him my name when he first slipped me his number. So he calls me Lan’sila and I call him Baker. For awhile he kept trying to guess what I did for a living, until he found me working at the museum one day.”

Merrill stuck out her lower lip, humming a soft whine. “That’s so _cute._ ”

“No it isn’t,” Dorian said. “It’s weird.”

“And thankfully none of your business,” Isii said sweetly. Her gaze drifted past him, her eyes brightening as she waved. Dorian frowned, turning in his seat in time to see a hulking horned figure making its way through the crowd.

The Tevinter whipped around, hissing. “You didn’t-”

Isii smiled innocently. “I’m certain I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

His lips pursed tightly, his brow creasing. “If you asked me out for drinks just to foist me on some humorless, horn-headed-”

He stopped himself abruptly as the Qunari closed the distance, wrapping one of his arms tightly around Isii’s waist in a crushing hug. She squeaked before laughing brightly, his hold nearly lifting her off of her seat. “How’s it going, short stuff? Been awhile.”

“I’m good,” she said, smiling broadly as she turned to her friends, casually disregarding the death glare Dorian was giving her. “Guys, meet Iron Bull. Bull? These are my friends Merrill and Dorian.”

Dorian seemed to sink further into his drink. Bull was quick to clap him on the back, though, taking the seat next to him. “You’re the Vint, right? Isii’s told me a lot about you.”

“Has she?” Dorian asked through clenched teeth. “Oh joy.”

Bull laughed before waving down the bartender. “Hey, Isii. What are you drinking?” he asked, spotting her empty glass.

“Sex on the Beach.”

He grinned.

“Oh, I’ve got something you’ll like even better.”

“Is that so?” she asked with a giggle.

“Trust me,” he said. “I know _exactly_ what you need. It’s a real kick in the teeth, though. You down?”

“I’m not some lightweight,” she defended quickly, laughing. “I can take a drink.”

***

The music pounded through her, moving her body as if it had a will of its own. Her head was swimming, loose and liquid and dizzying, but in a way that made her smile, humming happily. She danced with Merrill, watching as the woman’s body bopped joyously to the music, enthusiastic and free though not always on rhythm. When others started to crowd them, Isii drew her closer, wrapping her arms around her, which suited the two friends just fine.

Besides, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, holding onto Merrill was helping her stay on her feet.

Isii hadn’t been this drunk since college.

She should have stopped after the first drink Bull gave her. She should have waited as her head began to buzz, should have ridden out that wave before pouring more on top of it. But it had been so sweet and smooth, a numbing nectar that was deceptively strong, and by the time she hit the bottom of her second refill her senses were blown straight to the Void.

Everything felt hot, too hot, as if all the air in the bar was slowly turning to steam. Isii took a deep breath, eyes half-lidded as she slipped away from Merrill. The woman frowned, concerned. “You alright, falon?”

Isii nodded sluggishly. “Just need some air,” she shouted over the throbbing, thumping, pulsing beat that seemed to make the room tip and sway with each vibration. She was able to walk well enough, though her heels were suddenly more troublesome than they had been before.

_Heels are stupid._

_Shoes are stupid._

_Why do I even wear shoes?_

_Stupid shemlen._

She wove through the crowd, dodging elbows and bucking hips before finally making it toward the back door. The sudden cold breeze on her face was a blessing. The bar had a small outdoor patio surrounded by brick walls. In the summer, the ivy was draped with string lights and the space was used as a venue for local bands, but the early autumn air left it abandoned for the season. It was relatively quiet here. As long as she was willing to put up with the scent of stale beer and someone’s lingering smoke break, it made for a good spot to let her head settle.

She slumped down onto a nearby bench, untangling herself from her purse strap. She idly reached for her phone, flicking the screen. She wanted to look at the pictures she’d taken that night - selfies with Merrill, photos of Bull and Dorian to use as proof later that the mage was having a good time. She poked at the Gallery icon on her phone, frowning when Messaging opened instead.

She grumbled, muttering under her breath as she tried to swipe back to the home screen. Before she could, however, her eye scanned over the most recent message.

**_[The Baker]: I enjoyed our conversation last night. You have a very interesting perspective, Lan’sila. I look forward to the next time you decide to call._ **

She bit her lip as it stretched into a slow, lazy grin.

***

The sound of his phone ringing made his brow furrow.

Solas turned off the water, instinctively shaking droplets from his eyes as he slipped the shower door open. He supposed he was close to being finished anyway. Had he not been, he would have simply ignored the call, but his curiosity got the better of him. He grabbed a towel, running it quickly over his head before fishing through his discarded clothing, retrieving his mobile.

His lan’sila was calling.

The corner of his lips lifted as he peered at the device, wiping moisture from the screen before answering. “A little late for another debate, is it not?” he greeted warmly.

He heard a breathy laugh followed by a soft hum. “ _Hello there, baker._ ”

There was heat in her voice, low and simmering, enough to make him pause. “I take it you’ve finished your evening out with friends?”

“Mmmmm no.” The phone shifted, rustling before settling again and she sighed. “Just taking a short break. Getting some air. Thinking of you.”

“Is that so?” he asked, absentmindedly tucking the towel around his waist. Though she was not slurring, there was a distinctive change to her affectation - a humming, purring quality to her voice that was impossible to ignore.

“Mmmmhmmm,” she breathed slowly. “You should have taken us up on our invitation. I wish you were here. You’d make the evening _much_ more interesting.”

He laughed, pacing into his bedroom. “Is sharing a drink with friends not quite the entertainment you sought?”

“It’s been nice,” she murmured. “But I have a feeling you would make it better.”

“I doubt the accuracy of your assumption, but it’s pleasing nonetheless that you think so.”

“It’s not too late,” she pleaded softly. “You could always come here and join me.”

He readjusted the towel as it annoyingly slipped lower on his hip. “I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion,” he said dryly.

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” she replied. He heard more rustling as she moved the phone. “Do you dance?” she asked suddenly before rolling into a relaxed hum. “I want you to come here and dance with me. Vyn alas’niremah i’em?”

He chuckled. “You sound well into your cups.”

She giggled brightly, her laughter loose and lacking any self-consciousness. “Who even says that anymore?” Her giggling settled into another sigh, her voice warm as she spoke. “You talk funny, baker.”

“So I’ve been told, on occasion,” he muttered, angling the phone with his shoulder as he rummaged through his dresser.

“I like it,” she purred, halfway to a moan. “I like listening to you talk. Mar lah ir palasha, bradh’ajuelan.”

That forced him to stop, suddenly hyper-aware of the subtle nuance of each sound- the way she breathed, humming, chuckling softly. He could practically hear her biting her lip. “Has anyone ever told you that?” she asked, the heat of her voice stirring under his skin.

“How much have you had to drink, exactly?” he asked cautiously, returning his hand to the phone.

She whined softly. “Oh don’t be like that, baker. I don’t have to be drunk to think you’re sexy, do I?”

“I suppose not.” He wet his lip, worrying it between his teeth. This was a path he probably should not take.

And yet...

He abandoned his search for something to change into, sitting on the edge of his bed, his attention fully consumed by weighing his options. “So you find my voice appealing?” Perhaps the decision to shift to a lower register was unconscious. Perhaps not. He couldn’t be sure, yet something in the way she hummed her approval twisted in his stomach. It made him want to hear it again.

“Ir’vin. It’s all tingly. I like the rest of you too, don’t get me wrong but…. Mmmmm. Isalan hartha su dirthas.” He could have sworn she sounded breathless. Hearing Elvhen on those lips made it so much worse.

Better.

No, _worse._

He cleared his throat. “If nothing else, it’s good to know I am well-equipped to please you.”

She laughed, low and satisfied and purring. “ _That’s a theory I wouldn’t mind testing further._ ”

He couldn’t halt the thoughts that sprang to mind - incomplete images, half-formed imaginings of sensation and sound and touch and _not_ what he should be fixated on. He knew her boldness was driven by alcohol. He should regard it as such and not encourage it further. Still, the thought lingered - if he had taken her up on the invitation… what would have happened if she felt as she did now with him actually there?

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Home.”

“And where’s home?”

“Where I live.”

“Ha! Cheeky,” she chided softly. “What were you doing when I called?”

Lips parted, his answer ready, but he second-guessed himself. “I was preparing for bed,” he said. A safer answer and not untrue. He imagined sharing the detail that he’d been in the shower would lead the conversation into dangerous territory.

“Do you live alone?”

“You’re getting rather personal, lan’sila.”

That made her laugh brightly, her voice growing distant for a moment as she pulled the phone away. “I come onto you and you don’t bat an eye. I ask you if you live alone and _now_ I’m getting too personal? I suppose that should tell me something.” She paused, perhaps waiting for him to reply before beginning again. “You like the attention, don’t you?”

He closed his eyes, his brow creasing as he took a slow breath. “Do you have a safe means of getting home tonight?” he asked, slipping back into a more casual tone.

“Another artful dodge, baker,” she teased. “Though you have me worried now. A man who won’t say whether or not he lives alone is a bit of a red flag, you know.” Her voice lowered, whispering. “Especially with the sorts of thoughts you bring to mind.”

Part of him wanted desperately to ask her to elaborate. The tone of her voice made the context of those thoughts clear, if not the content. “Suddenly concerned with my relationship status?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

He paused. “I live alone.”

“But you’re seeing someone?”

“No.”

“Hmmm.”

“Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“I have a hard time believing you’re single.”

“And why is that?”

“You’re attractive.” He scoffed, but she continued. “And you can cook. You must have women throwing themselves at you.”

“Perhaps their aim is woefully poor.” She giggled. “I assure you, I don’t receive the sort of attention you assume I do.” She hummed drowsily. “You never answered me before. Do you have a safe way home tonight?”

“Why?” she asked. “Are you offering me a _ride,_ baker?” From the way she purred her words, her innuendo was anything but subtle. The thoughts that inspired were shameful, but he allowed her subtext to pass without comment.

“If you have no alternatives.”

“My friend and I are going to split a cab home.” She paused and there was more rustling. When she spoke again, she sounded closer to the phone, half-whispering. “But if you come here, you could save me the fare and I could just ride with you.” She giggled drunkenly. “Come on, baker. Come here and have a little fun with me. I promise I can be very, very fun.”

“I have no doubt,” he said haltingly. “Unfortunately I have work tomorrow. I have to start my day quite early in order to have the shop open for the morning rush.”

She sighed, disappointed. “Another time, then?”

“Perhaps,” he said, his eyes closing before quietly adding, “I would like that.”

***

At first all she was aware of was noise and pain.

The ache rang through her skull, tearing down the back of her neck. Even as the pain sprang suddenly into her awareness, it still took time for consciousness to return to her. The noise was persistent, ringing, drumming. Music? She frowned as her brain sorted out the sound. No. Her phone. Someone was calling her.

Isii groaned, groggy, her eyes feeling as though they were sticking to the insides of her lids. Her tongue felt thick, swollen and dry and her whole body felt tender. She was naked, stripped down to her panties and tucked into her bed. She didn’t remember getting naked. She didn’t even remember getting home. Whatever that drink was that Bull concocted for her, it wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. She’d traded a _Sex on the Beach_ for something more akin to _Power Fucking on the Beach_ and she was definitely paying for it now.

She pawed blindly for her phone, cursing as she knocked it off of her nightstand. “Fenedhis, cocking piece of...” She growled, rolling toward the edge of the mattress and reaching down. She scooped up the offensive device, finally silencing the ringer as she brought it to her ear. “Hello?” she croaked.

“Good afternoon,” Dorian’s voice chimed brightly through her phone. “I do hope I’m not cutting into your precious beauty sleep. You did seem to wear yourself out last night after abandoning me.” She could already hear the venom behind his chipper demeanor.

“Could you not, right now? I am not caffeinated enough for this conversation,” she grumbled, running a hand over her face.

“OH I’M SORRY,” he said loudly. “ARE YOU A LITTLE HUNGOVER?”

She groaned, pulling the phone from her ear as the sound rang sharply through her head. “Fucking Dread Wolf fucking take you I fucking swear…” she cursed into her pillow.

“Ah. That answers that question then.”

“Look, you had a good time, didn’t you?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“Creators, you’re stubborn!” she hissed. “Bet you’re not going to even admit that Bull was _absolutely nothing_ like what you assumed he’d be.” She heard Dorian huff. “Listen, if you don’t want to see him again, that’s fine. I don’t care. I didn’t tell him it was a date. It was literally just a _‘hey, come meet my other friends’_ sort of thing. Absolutely zero fucking pressure. Now can I go back to sleep?”

“You’re always so charming first thing in the morning.”

She hummed. “Only for you, sweetheart,” she said dryly. “But seriously, my head is killing me. Can I call you later? Full permission to yell at me when I don’t feel half-dead.”

“I suppose I can agree to those terms,” he said before his voice softly warmed. “Get some rest. Let me know when you’re among the living.”

“Will do.”

She brought the phone away from her ear. Dorian hung up and her screen suddenly flicked to the Recent Calls list.

When she saw the previous entry, she froze.

**The Baker. 14 Hours Ago. Outgoing.**

_Oh, fuck._

She sat up, staring down at her phone, her brow creasing. She had absolutely no memory of calling him. What did she say? What in the Void did they talk about? She brought up the details of the call. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of talking to the baker while blind drunk and she couldn’t remember a second of it.

“Shit.” She flopped back onto the bed, groaning. Anxiously she opened her texts and, sure enough, there were new messages she’d sent to the baker that looked entirely unfamiliar.

**_I meant it tho._ **

**_I think ur sedxt_ **

**_sexft_ **

**_sexy_ **

**_dammit_ **

Isii groaned, pressing the phone to her forehead as she grimaced. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks, making her face feel warm on top of the dull ache that consumed her head. _Great. I booty called the baker. Great idea, Drunk Isii. Totally the right move. Fuck._

**_[The Baker]: I will take that as a compliment._ **

**_[The Baker]: Simply for the sake of easing any concerns, please let me know when you make it home safely._ **

**_u worried abt me?_ **

**_[The Baker]: I think you are more than capable of taking care of yourself._ **

**_[The Baker]: However, should something go wrong I would feel I’d been remiss for not paying closer attention to your well-being._ **

**_hmmmm u like me, dont u?_ **

**_[The Baker]: Enough that your safety is of importance to me._ **

The timestamps showed a gap of roughly an hour before the texts resumed.

**_heded home now_ **

**_srry 4 l8 txt_ **

**_ur probly in bed rn’t u?_ **

**_[The Baker:] I am, but it is no trouble._ **

Then, 45 minutes later:

**_home now_ **

**_[The Baker]: Son era, lan’sila. I hope you are well come morning._ **

Isii took a deep breath, frowning at her phone as she crawled out of bed. She padded groggily out of her room, thankful that her curtains were drawn. She didn’t feel like bothering with getting dressed. Panties would have to suffice.

She began to type as she walked.

**_So… about last night._ **

**_I just want to apologize._ **

**_I really should have had my phone privileges taken away from me._ **

**_I’m sure I totally embarrassed myself when I called you._ **

She stared at the screen anxiously for a moment, hoping perhaps he’d respond right away. _No such luck._ He was probably at work, she reasoned. His response times were always understandably slower when he was at the shop.

Or maybe she’d stuck her foot so firmly in her mouth last night that he wouldn’t want to respond.

She tried to push that thought aside as she made her way toward her sad excuse of a kitchen. She re-read his texts from the night before. He was polite, as always. He didn’t seem particularly annoyed. Maybe she was overthinking things. She grabbed her kettle, grimacing at the noise as she started to fill it. _Tea needs to happen. Very strong tea._ She was startled when she heard a soft groan coming from her couch. She glanced over just in time to see Merrill’s head peek up over the edge of the cushions, her hair haphazardly tossed about, her eyes bleery. “On dhea, lethallan,” she croaked, her voice throaty from sleep.

Isii stared at her for a moment before glancing down. “I should probably put on a shirt,” she grumbled flatly, setting down the kettle and shuffling back towards her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> falon - friend  
> Vyn alas’niremah i’em? - will you dance with me?  
> Mar lah ir palasha, bradh’ajuelan. - your voice is very sexy, baker.  
> Ir’vin - lit. “very yes”  
> Isalan hartha su dirthas - i want to listen to you talk.  
> son era - sleep well  
> On dhea, lethallan - good morning, cousin/kin


	11. Politics

Solas could feel his phone vibrate in his pocket.

A small smile curled on his lips, even as the urge to check the message made his fingertips twitch anxiously. He supposed that meant his lan’sila was awake. Admittedly he’d been contemplating exactly how he should address the issue of her late-night phone call. He could be gracious and simply say they had a pleasant, albeit inebriated, conversation about the book he’d loaned her. Staging a little drunken history debate did sound like something she probably had prior experience with.

Though the alternative, telling her the truth, would probably be more amusing.

He left his phone where it lay in his pocket. The message would have to wait.

He was working, after all.

Solas adjusted his mask before carefully laying out the second batch of goods for the afternoon. Despite their incessant and inane commentary on their dietary habits, the Orlesian upper crust attending this little gathering did seem keen to inhale the various hors-d'oeuvres he was contracted to provide. Madame de Fer spared no expense and had ordered far more than he imagined they’d be able to consume.

Though at this rate, he was beginning to question that judgement.

“Security at the event is of course one of our primary concerns.” Solas heard the thick Antivan voice draw near and he instinctively stood aside, clearing the path to the table. The two women barely noticed him as they conversed, ambling over to select from the small pastries and cakes on display. Their lack of attention worked to his advantage.

It was much easier to listen when no one thought you were important enough to pay attention to.

“The protests are becoming a bit of a problem, however,” the Antivan continued, brushing away a strand of dark hair that had fallen in front of her mask. “There is talk that if they are not settled soon, La Conférence Internationale is going to have to be postponed.”

“It certainly won’t come to that, Miss Montilyet,” Madame de Fer reassured her, her tone unmistakably patronizing as she smiled sweetly. “Why, the invitations have been sent out and everything. Far too late to change the date.”

“I am being serious.”

“I know you are, which makes it all the more amusing.” Their host delicately lifted a few frilly cakes onto her plate. “Social unrest is cyclical. Some poor fool acts out of turn, the Templars do their job and the minority voice in this city shouts their outrage to the Heavens. The only difference now is that the elves and the apostate-sympathizers are _both_ claiming the poor girl as their own personal martyr. Pitiable, yes. No one is exactly smiling over these circumstances. But order must be maintained,” she finished, turning to face her companion. “It will pass. It always does. They may think they are on the verge of some great rebellion, but I have seen this come and go a hundred times over. And I very much doubt that anything I have to say is going to sway the hearts and minds of the dissenters.”

“We thought, perhaps, as the Enchanter to the Imperial Court-”

“What, that I could calm the mob?” she laughed brightly, shaking her head. “Perhaps your time in Val Royeaux has not been as educational as you believe, Josephine. To them, I am no better than Celene, than the Divine, than the Knight-Vigilant. At best, I am a stooge for powers above my station and at worst, I am practically the devil incarnate for willingly being a part of what they see as a corrupt system.” She placed one of the cakes on her mouth, humming softly as she chewed. “They have decided what the narrative is and there is little that will change their minds. We simply need to keep the peace until the fire dies down. Trust me, we won’t even be discussing this issue six months from now. Give it a year and no one will even remember the name of the poor girl who died.”

“Still, if the Spire and the Circle of Montsimmard were to retire some of their harsher penalties…”

Vivienne paused, picking up one of the glasses of champagne that lined the edge of the table. “Ah. So you hope to appease the mage sympathizers by showing the Circles as more friendly to their cause?”

“They are calling for change. If we show them the Circles are willing, within reason, it may appease some of them.”

Vivienne hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps. It will do little to lessen the fervor of the elves.”

“A separate, albeit related, issue,” she replied, her tone tense. “There are certain courses of action being considered-”

“So I heard,” she said with a small smile. “I did see your rather unusual addition to the conference guest list. Giving the Dalish a seat in order to appease the city elves? A bit of a gamble. They are not overly fond of their more rustic cousins. Though I do hope the Dalish know their little proposal is laughable.”

Lady Montilyet hesitated, her lips pursed. “It is… unlikely that it will gain any traction. That is true.”

“It’s absurd. It’s all well and good that they want a permanent settlement of their own, but who exactly do they expect to give them this new territory? Ancient borders don’t move easily and no one is likely to chop their nation in half for the sake of some small minority living on the outskirts of civilization.” She sipped her champagne, noting Josephine’s discomfort. “You can call a spade a spade, dear,” Vivienne said with a brush of her hand. “They are being given an audience strictly to make Celene look better. They are a prop and little more. Pose for some pictures, make some small headlines. It’s not a bad choice, all things considered.”

“I suppose,” she said.

“Come,” Vivienne said, drawing her away from the table, “there is someone I would like to introduce you to. Then I really must be getting to my other guests.”

Josephine followed. “I only needed a moment of your time…”

Their conversation drifted as Solas returned to his work, his brow furrowing behind his mask. The damn thing was irritating to wear. Of all the traditions Orlais had abandoned over the years, he had hoped the masks of the Grand Game would be one of them. Madame de Fer had been very strict in her dress code. Even in the position of a servant, he was expected to keep his face hidden.

Another elf quietly approached him - a young woman in servant’s garb. “Can I clear away any of these boxes for you?” she asked, gesturing to the assortment of empty pastry containers he had stacked behind the table. He nodded, humming his agreement distractedly as he continued to refill the platters.

She leaned in closer, tucking her face near his shoulder as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Fen’Harel enansal.”

He paused. _Ah. One of Briala’s agents, then._ He could not help but note the irony in her choice of passphrase - a choice he took no part in and yet made no objection to. He wordlessly stepped behind the table, bending down to gather the boxes. Unseen, he slipped a thick manila envelope out from among his belongings, tucking it into one of the empty packages before securing the lid.

The woman took the stack from him, balancing it in her arms. “She still wants to meet whoever it is you are working for,” she said under her breath, her eyes casually scanning the crowd.

“I will let him know,” Solas said flatly as she nodded and left.

They believed the baker was simply the middle-man for the mysterious benefactor Briala conversed with over the phone.

And he had no intention of changing their current arrangement.

***

Isii tapped her pen on the table.

She checked her phone again.

Still no response.

He should be done closing the shop by now.

She put her phone down, moving her gaze back to her book, but she couldn’t focus, reading and rereading the same few paragraphs.

She shouldn’t really care all that much. If she made an ass of herself, then fine. It wouldn’t be the first time. It wasn’t like they were really friends.

_Yet._

She’d hoped that was the direction they were going in.

All signs pointed to -

She sighed, rubbing her brow.

_You’re getting worked up over nothing. He could just be busy._

_You could just act like a damn adult and call him._

She frowned, picking up her phone and scrolling to his number, worrying the bridge of her nose with her fingers as she pressed the device to her ear.

The ringing stopped. She heard a sudden rustling, a distant voice muttering and then him - “Hello.”

“Hey,” she said, biting down on her lip. “Is… this a bad time?”

“No, I…” He huffed slightly. “Stay on the line for just a moment?”

“Yeah, sure.” There was more rustling, louder this time as she heard metal jingling. Keys. Then a soft thud and a heavy breath.

“Sorry,” he said as his voice became clear again. “I’m just now getting home.”

“Oh,” she said, leaning back onto her couch. “I didn’t realize you kept the shop open this late.”

“I had another task to tend to. Event catering,” he said, a certain level of tired flatness to his voice.

“Ah. Fun.”

“Not particularly.”

Then, silence.

“So.”

“So,” he echoed her.

She picked her thumbnail along the hem of her shirt. “How bad was I last night?”

“I am sorry if my lack of response had you worried. I was truly busy today or I would have answered sooner.”

“No, you’re-”

“It was a pleasant surprise,” he finished, pausing only after her attempt to interrupt.

“Oh,” she said awkwardly. “Well. Good then. I...uh… hope I was behaving myself?”

“I would not say that, exactly.” She could practically hear him smirking. “Still, you made no offense. It was rather… enlightening.”

“Enlightening?”

“Mhmm.”

The corner of her lips lifted. “And what exactly did I bring to light?”

He chuckled. “I take it you do not remember anything about our conversation?”

“No,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Ah.”

“Are you not going to tell me? Not even a hint?”

“Tell me your name and perhaps I’ll consider it.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “That’s no fair!”

“I have something you want to know. You have something I want to know.”

She huffed. “Well, then. I suppose we’ll both be left in the dark.”

His laughter was warm, a sound that washed away the last of her tension as she stretched out against the couch. “Why this insistence on keeping your name from me?” he asked.

She tugged at her lip with her teeth. “Maybe I just like being a little mysterious.”

“Or perhaps you simply enjoy it when I continue to ask.” She heard his voice shift. Softening. Lowering. “Does my interest in you entertain?”

“You could say that.”

“One could say a lot of things. That isn’t quite an answer.”

“Maybe I like being your lan’sila.”

“Oh, so you are mine now? I do not recall laying any claim to you.”

“Would you rather I _not_ be yours?”

There was a pause. “I did not say that.”

Her cheeks pinched from the width of her smile, her toes playing along the arm of her couch. “That’s not exactly an answer, now, is it?”

“I suppose not. How has your day been?” he began, shifting topics. “I assume much of it was probably spent rehabilitating.”

“Oh, funny,” she said dryly. “I spent most of it reading, actually. I’m on the last page of your book.” She fiddled with the binding as she pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. “You ready for my lecture, baker? You might want to take notes.”

He chuckled and she could imagine his expression. Eyes closed, a small shake to his head. “I eagerly await it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to write something lighter after all that post-game angst. So here. Have some Bread Wolf.
> 
> Fen'Harel enansal means "Fen'Harel's blessing". It's a reference to the passphrase Briala uses in Masked Empire.


	12. Fade Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong Language and Sexual Themes ahead.

“Wait, wait, baker. Back up,” Isii said, cutting him off sharply as she rubbed her brow. “You’re claiming Elvhenan was a slave-owning society?”

“It was,” he said simply. “Do you truly believe that the great ruins left behind were constructed entirely by willing craftsmen? The easy availability of free labor was a temptation they could not deny themselves, given they did not lack the power to enforce such a system. Despite the abhorrent nature of the practice, having a slave who is immortal is a long-lasting and therefore economically sound investment. Despicable, of course. There is no denying that. But it was a fundamental part of Elvhenan’s foundation.”

“Supposition, not evidence,” she said, shaking her head as she adjusted her phone against her cheek. “You simply saying something happened because it makes sense to you doesn’t make it true. I’m going to have to see some cited sources, Ser.”

“I would expect no less.” She could hear the warmth of his smile through his words. “Sadly, nearly all records that would back up my claims have been lost to time.”

“You don’t say?”

“Your sarcasm doesn’t make it any less true.”

She propped her feet up on the arm of her couch. “So, baker. How do you come by your information, then? Since you know without question that all the years of researching and analyzing that went into writing this book are fundamentally flawed?”

“First-hand accounts.”

She laughed. “Of course. First-hand accounts of things you claim to have no record of? Now you’re contradicting yourself, falon.”

The line fell silent. She wondered if perhaps the call had been dropped when she heard his voice once more. “What do you know of Dreamers?”

The question caught her off-guard. “What? Like, somniari?”

“Indeed.”

Isii frowned up at the ceiling of her apartment, her eyes tracing the familiar cracks in the plaster. “They’re a myth, dating back to some of the earliest records of Elvhenan. They pop up here and there in art and verse… but other than that, they’re basically Tevinter boogeymen. Mind control… killing people in their nightmares… There’s a reason those stupid somniari slasher movies were so popular when I was a kid. Freaky shit.”

He chuckled softly. “So you don’t entertain any notion that the stories might hold some grain of truth?”

“What? Should I be expecting a creepy guy with a clawed hand and a striped sweater to come kill me in my sleep?” she teased.

“The elvhen legends,” he corrected firmly, “not the films.”

She rubbed her hand slowly down her face, wincing. “Don’t tell me you’re some sort of conspiracy nut. Are you going to start telling me how King Alistair and Empress Celene are secretly lizard people? I hear that’s a popular one.”

“No. Nothing so grandiose. Though that does not answer my question.”

“They entered the Fade consciously like any other mage would - with lyrium. But an inherent ability to do so? No. There is absolutely no evidence that Dreamers are anything more than a story.”

“Even though they show up repeatedly throughout different periods of history?”

“Tevinter stole the idea from the elves, along with nearly every other aspect of their culture. Then the Imperium spread through nearly all of Thedas, carrying the story with them.”

“Ah.”

“It would be like saying that vampires must be real because there are a variety of myths about bloodsuckers.”

“I make no claims about vampires, but I assure you - Dreamers are very real.”

She tried not to sigh too loudly into the phone. “Alright, baker. Whatever you say.”

“If I were able to provide you with definitive proof - would you want it?”

“I have a feeling you’d show it to me anyway,” she said, a slight edge to her voice.

“I would greatly prefer your consent.”

She pursed her lips. “Ok. Sure,” she acquiesced. “If you can prove to me that Dreamers exist, then by all means.” She felt tired. Annoyed. This wasn’t how she imagined this conversation would go. Rather than a debate about historical facts, he instead seemed more keen on nit-picking and correcting her about her own field of study.

Not that she wanted to be snobbish about it, but he was just a hobbyist. She’d dedicated her life to the study of Elvhenan. To have that so quickly dismissed was irritating to say the least.

She pulled her phone away long enough to check on the time. “Look, it’s getting late,” she said, running her tongue roughly against her teeth. “I should probably turn in.”

He was silent for moment. When he replied, his voice was low, a subtle quality to it that she didn’t quite know how to interpret.

“Sweet dreams, lan’sila.”

“Yeah, you too,” she said, trying to mask her tone before hanging up. She let out a slow breath, closing her eyes.

Ok, so maybe he could be a bit of an ass.

And a bit of a crack pot. Why the sudden divergence into somniari? And why the insistence that they were real? The sort of people who claimed Dreamers haunted their sleep were the same type who claimed aliens had swooped down and abducted them, or there was a giant hairy ape man living in the Frostbacks.

It wasn’t at all what she expected to hear from him.

She fiddled with her phone, shooting Dorian a text.

**_So the guy who’s been flirting with me may or may not be a total nut job._ **

The reply came quickly.

**_[Dorian]: You do seem to attract them._ **

**_Screw you._ **

**_[Dorian]: I will respectfully decline._ **

***

Isii knew it was a dream right away.

It wasn’t some jumbled mess of half-formed thoughts that she’d likely forget upon waking. This dream was vibrant. Vivid. She could feel the sun on her skin, smell the fresh, clean water of the river. She could feel grass between her toes as she moved along the familiar path, the Fade recreating a place thousands of miles away from where she knew she lay sleeping.

She was back in the Marches, a few miles out from her clan’s territory. It was a secluded alcove jutting off of the river where she used to go swimming; a private spot she would escape to when she needed time alone. She eagerly stripped down to her swimsuit, the pads of her feet scraping against hot stone as she took a shallow dive into the waiting pool. She swam lazily beneath the surface, enjoying the relief of weightlessness before letting herself float on her back, her eyes closed. She sighed as she felt the cold water on her belly and breasts slowly evaporating under the heat of midday. This was a good place to dream of. She had a lot of happy memories here.

A branch snapped underfoot. Isii opened her eyes, glancing back to the shore to find the baker standing there. He stared at her, a bit perplexed and surprised as he drew closer to the edge of the water, his hands slowly tucking themselves behind his back.

 _I am definitely dreaming,_ she thought.

She could not help but smirk as she slowly swam over to him.

_I’m going to have fun with this._

***

Solas did not know what he’d been expecting, exactly.

More clothing, for one thing.

He watched his lan’sila for a time before moving closer. The swimsuit she wore did not cover much, her body exposed in a manner that caught him by surprise. He could see the entirety of her vallaslin now - pale branches weaving beneath her breasts, trailing down her sides, curving along her hips before curling into her thighs. Thick hair fanned out along the surface of the water as she floated, a warm smile on her lips, her fingertips drawing lazy circles on her belly. He watched as she spotted him, her smile spreading as she moved closer.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, a low humming quality to her voice. She gripped the side of the large rock he stood on, pulling herself up to sit on its edge, her toes dragging along the surface of the water. She tapped the spot next to her and he sat, studying her face. It was always difficult to tell how conscious someone was of their surroundings when dreaming. There was a fair chance she did not even know she was asleep.

“Were you not expecting me?”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Her smile was almost coquettish as she glanced over to him. “You have been on my mind a lot recently.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmmm.”

Consciously dreaming or no, she did not seem to connect his appearance now to their previous conversation about Dreamers. It was unsurprising. The mind often worked slowly in the Fade and he would not expect her to jump to that conclusion when she did not even believe such mages existed.

She reached over, playfully catching her finger between the buttons of his shirt, flicking the material with a quick tug. “You seem a bit overdressed.”

He appeared to her as he would on any normal day when he was not working, wearing a simple button-up and jeans. “I wasn’t exactly planning on swimming,” he said smoothly.

“Then what were you expecting to do, exactly?” she asked, smirking as she leaned back on her hands, her brow lifting suggestively to match the intentional arching of her back. “Just enjoy the view?”

His eyes darted only momentarily to her posture’s invitation, clearing his throat, preparing himself. He would attempt to ease her into the truth. There was a risk in telling her he was an apostate, let alone a Dreamer. Though he had easily slipped away from the attention of Templars in the past, he had no intention of abandoning the life he had established for himself so soon. As foolish as it was, he felt compelled to tell her. He presumed, based on her interests, that such a discovery may fascinate her - and selfishly he liked the idea of being the subject of her fascination.

He considered her a friend and she referred to him as such. He hoped he could trust her with this.

“You realize this is a dream,” he began cautiously, studying her face, “do you not?”

“No, of course not,” she said sarcastically, giggling. “Clearly I hiked all the way from Orlais to the Marches only to run into my local baker at one of my old haunts. _Of course_ I know I’m dreaming.” She leaned toward him, her smile broad and mischievous as she caught his chin with her hand, turning his head. “How else could I get away with this?” she whispered before closing the distance.

He hadn’t expected her to kiss him. In fact, it was the very _last_ thing he was expecting. Solas stiffened, jerking slightly in surprise as she pressed a sweet, soft caress to his lips, her fingers trailing gently against his jaw. He was stunned, momentarily uncertain how to react and yet instinctively returned the kiss, turning his body to face her as her hands settled against his chest.

Then, she shoved him.

He could hear her laughter as he hit the water, the sudden chill enveloping him so quickly that he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He struggled for a moment, the instantaneous and instinctive panic for air irrepressible even though he knew he did not need to breathe here in the Fade. His feet found purchase beneath him, the water just shallow enough for him to push his head above the surface upon standing. He sputtered, wiping droplets from his eyes as she continued to chuckle.

“What was that for?” he asked sharply.

“Oh come on, baker,” she said, splashing him lightly with a small kick of her foot. “You don’t go to a swimming hole if you’re afraid to get wet.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw tight as he grabbed onto her ankle, jerking roughly. She let out a giggling shriek as she slipped off of the rock, tumbling back into the water. He released her leg and she quickly righted herself, throwing her weight towards him. He felt her wrap her thighs around his hips, pulling his legs out from under him as she pushed his shoulders back, shoving him under the surface once more. He kicked, struggling for a moment to regain his footing, pushing them both up as she continued to cling to him. He was still blinking water from his eyes as he felt her hand go to his cheek, leaning in once more.

“Wait-”

She did not wait, his hesitant plea consumed by her lips. It was more forceful, now. Heated. She curled her fingers around the back of his neck, slating her mouth over his own and damn him if he didn’t enjoy it. It had been ages since he’d been kissed, since he’d felt the weight and warmth of another’s body against his own, abstaining from his desires to avoid unwanted complications. But he could feel her now - the vibrations of soft moans on his skin, the subtle shifting of her hips against his own as she tightened her legs around him, her hands pushing underneath his shirt. He pressed his tongue forward, parting her lips and she opened herself to him, letting him taste her, drawing him deeper. His hands went to her back, her waist, her hips and then lower, palming her flesh, crushing her against him as he felt the drag of her nails on his chest. He’d thought of kissing her before, but those had been idle thoughts. Even here in the Fade it was _so_ much better than he had imagined. He could lose himself in the warmth of her, in the feel of her hands on his skin, slipping down to his belt-

He caught her wrist quickly. _No. No, this is wrong._ She did not understand what was happening here, did not comprehend that this was both a dream and also real. As much as it pained him, he pulled his head back, breaking away from her kiss. “Lan’sila-”

“You want to know my name, baker?” she whispered, her face still inches from his own. She leaned forward, close enough that it slipped like a soft breath against his lips. “ _Isii._ ” He mouthed it, repeated it without thought and felt her shudder against him. “Mmmm, I like how it sounds when you say it,” she purred, nipping at his lower lip as she tugged on his belt once more.

He pulled away again. “We shouldn’t-”

“Isalan ama na’mis,” she breathed into his ear, her teeth lightly scraping his throat.

He tried and failed to stifle a moan as his eyes closed. If he didn’t spit it out now, he would do something very, _very_ stupid. “This is real, Isii,” he said gracelessly. “ _I’m_ real. This is your dream, but I am not a part of it.”

She paused, a look of utter confusion tightening her features. “What?”

“You said you wanted evidence of Dreamers…” he offered, his brow lifting.

Realization came slowly and he watched as it bloomed over her face, quickly turning to an anxious mortification. “Oh,” was all she managed at first, finally letting go of his belt, her legs releasing their grip as she pushed herself back from him. “Oh,” she said again, her hand going to her lips, her eyes wide before casting them down. “Oh gods…”

“I’m sorry,” he began quickly. “I wasn’t… I didn’t expect you to-”

“You mean you’re…. You’re really….” She couldn’t make out the words, instead burying her face behind her hand. _“Shit.”_

This wasn’t at all how he’d intended for this to go. “Isii?”

“Fucking fenedhis,” was all she managed, groaning behind her hand, her cheeks burning. “I thought you were just…”

“A figment?”

“Fuck,” she muttered again, still not meeting his eye.

He hesitated, watching her embarrassment. “Perhaps it’s best we discuss this after you wake up.”

With that, he pushed her from her dream, the vision dissolving in her absence as she disappeared from view. Solas centered himself, slowly drawing out of the Fade.

His phone was already ringing by the time he opened his eyes. He did not have to check to see who it was, his stomach tightening as he retrieved it from his nightstand.

He took a deep breath and answered.

He supposed he had some explaining to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor dear thought she was just having a sex dream.  
> Oops.
> 
> Translations:  
> falon- friend, particularly someone you consider a good friend  
> Isalan ama na’mis - “I want to sheathe your blade” A rather on-the-nose Elvish euphemism.  
> fenedhis - a common curse. Project Elvhen translates it into “wolf cock”


	13. Connection

Both of them were silent. If it weren’t for the soft rhythm of her breathing, he would have thought the call hadn’t connected properly.

Solas did not know what to say.

Apparently, neither did she.

He heard her breaths shudder slightly, a small inhale as if bracing herself. “Please tell me I’m just crazy and you have no idea why I’m calling you in the middle of the night.”

He paused, worrying his lip with his teeth before closing his eyes. He could lie to her. He could simply confirm that it was nothing more than a dream and something he had no knowledge of. But if she ever learned that he was a Dreamer… if he ever slipped and used her name…

_No. Better to tell her the truth._

“You’re not crazy,” he said quietly.

“Shit.” The curse was strained, pulling slightly into a whine.

“I am sorry. I genuinely did not intend to-”

“Gods, no. I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Isii said quickly. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t realize it was you. I was just-”

“You were merely indulging in a harmless fantasy,” he said calmly. “I understand what that was, lan’sila. You did me no offense. I should have said something sooner.”

“I didn’t exactly make that easy for you.”

“I could have chosen other means of revealing my abilities to you.”

She grew quiet again, speaking softly when she broke the silence. “So you’re an apostate?”

“Yes.”

There was a long pause, growing heavier the longer she held it. His stomach twisted anxiously, worried that he had misjudged her.

“So am I.”

The confession came like a whisper, murmured over a relieved breath. He could not help but smile, his brow lifting. “Truly?”

“Yes. Most don’t know, outside of my clan. Just a handful of my closest friends.”

He suppressed the urge to laugh. “I feel as though I should have known.”

“What? Am I too magey?” she asked, the anxiousness of her voice subsiding. “Cause if so, I’m not being a very good apostate.”

“You remind me of-” He stopped himself, unable to share his thoughts even if he could find the words to shape them. There was something about her that captivated him. Something he could not fully comprehend. She was beautiful but he had seen countless beautiful women over the passing ages. None of them held his attention the way she did. She was intelligent. Vibrant. She took so much pride in what came before even with the limited knowledge she had of it. And there was something else, something that drew him to her even before he knew the complexity of her mind. Perhaps it was her connection to the Fade, however small it was. That must be it. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

For whatever reason, she reminded him of home.

“Nevermind,” he said smoothly. “It matters little. Though I am happy to learn this is something we share. There was always the chance that you would inform the Templars of my status out of fear or a sense of obligation.”

“Ah, yes. I’ll go tattle to the Templars that you showed up in my dreams and let me make an ass of myself,” she said dryly.

“You were fine, falon,” he said, trying to ease her. “It came as a surprise to us both.”

“I can’t believe Dreamers are real…” she whispered, the sense of awe in her voice unmistakable. “And you’re one of them? I always assumed the Dreamers of old just used lyrium to induce fade walking. I based an entire semester of research on that theory, tested the method on myself just to see-”

“You’ve moved consciously through the Fade?”

“A few times. Not often, though. Lyrium is hard to come by and obviously I don’t want to risk getting addicted. But I’ve done it for the sake of research before. Spirits hold all sorts of information if you know how to ask for it.”

He propped himself onto his elbow, pressing the phone to his ear as he frowned. “You interact safely with spirits?” he asked, shocked. “And you do not fear what they are?”

“The ancient elves didn’t. Why should I?”

“The world has changed immensely since then.”

“The waking world has. The Fade is a constant. Theoretically, the spirits there are no more dangerous now than they once were.”

He let out a small huff, shaking his head. “You continue to surprise me. I never would have thought… This is not something I expected us to have in common.”

“But you can move through the Fade through sheer will alone?”

“Yes.”

“Everytime you go to sleep?”

“Nearly,” he said, sitting up fully, leaning his back against the headboard. “There is a conscious choice whether to simply rest or to wander freely. Some nights, I dream, just like any other. Most nights, I explore. I seek out old friends, spirits who have guided me over the years, who have shown me visions that span time as if it was little more than a vast expanse, reaching out into an endless horizon. I have watched spirits raise both voice and weapon high, mirroring the sacrifices of countless men and women whose names are no longer spoken. I have heard world-changing declarations as well as seen the simple joys of a parent watching their child take their first steps. These moments are preserved, echoing through time in a tapestry that few are able to witness.”

“That sounds beautiful.”

Her voice was warm. He could tell she was smiling. Solas closed his eyes, trying to picture it. “I am glad you think so.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Isii was so much more than he could have expected. Feeling any sense of connection, of similarity to another person - it was unfamiliar to him and yet immensely comforting in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“So…” she said slowly.

“So?”

“Do you want to… _do_ anything about this?”

“Meaning?”

“I mean… I _did_ kiss you. You kissed me back…”

He chuckled, even as his fingertips traced mindlessly against his lip. “I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“You seemed pretty enthusiastic when you were shoving your tongue in my mouth.”

His brow tightened. “I did no such thing.”

“Oh really?” she asked, an amused hum in her voice. “Does it not count if it’s only _Fade tongue?_ I suppose you also didn’t cop a feel while you were at it? Did I just imagine your hands all over my ass?”

His lips parted but his words seized in his throat. He could feel heat spreading from the tips of his ears. “I… I was caught up in the moment. It has been a very long time for me.”

“I just meant that… _well_. Do you want to maybe go out sometime? Like a date?”

His brow pressed lower. He would be lying if he said he’d never considered pursuing her romantically. In many ways, he had been from the beginning - though he was not comfortable admitting it. Romantic entanglements were complicated. They greatly increased the chances of his _otherness_ being seen, though not fully understood. He had spent so many years in this world that was wrong, filled with people who were mere shadows of what once was, that it had become second nature to simply walk among them yet not be apart of them. Friendships were shallow and fleeting and he never stayed in one place for too long. To become more attached than that made life more difficult in the long run for all involved.

His silence caused her to awkwardly clear her throat. “I mean, I feel like I should take you out to lunch or something after trying to forcibly remove you from your pants.”

He laughed, but the sound was weak. Uncertain. “I… _well_.”

“Combine this with my drunk dial the other night and I think you should be pretty aware by now that I’m attracted to you. Not exactly the classiest way to reveal that, I admit… It wouldn’t have been my first choice...”

“I had my suspicions before. Though, in truth, I half-suspected it was wishful thinking.”

“So you _do_ like me?”

“Yes, but-”

“But what?”

“I…” He wet his lips before pursing them. “There are… considerations to take into account. Certain decisions that…” He stopped. How could he possibly explain his hesitation in any way that would make sense to her? “I have been alone for a very long time.”

“You’re not sure you’re ready to change that?”

“I don’t know. There are possible consequences. I would need time to think about it.”

“I’m just asking you to lunch,” she said plainly.

“I know, but-”

“Hey, no. That’s fine,” she said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with. Take some time, baker.”

“Solas.”

“Pardon?”

“My name… since now I know yours. I feel the introduction is long overdue.”

“ _Solas._ ” His name was warm on her lips. He could imagine her grin as she tested the feel of it on her tongue.  “It’s a nice name.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t look like a Solas, though.”

“Oh?” he laughed. “And what name do I look like to you?”

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “Something else. But I like Solas. I can get used to Solas.”

His lips lifted.

“I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished Trespasser and desperately required something light and fluffy. Bread Wolf is my therapist.


	14. Things Left Unsaid

Isii rubbed her brow, frowning as she tried to focus on her laptop’s screen, the document’s cursor flashing lazily as she reread the passage. The formal proposal for La Conférence was completed and submitted months ago, but she still had a presentation to prepare for. This was the first time the Dalish were being granted any type of formal representation on an international level and she certainly didn’t want to screw it up. This was a project years in the making. Thousands of phone calls and meetings, special arlathvhenen held specifically in order to debate the nature of their demands. Isii had been a part of each, putting up with the irritation of Skype calls and spotty internet connections, trying to be a good First even as she found herself in the heart of the Orlesian capital. Consensus had been reached and the real work began, campaigning and networking, trying to find any opportunity to raise awareness.

Their way of life was dying. As much as they hated it, they needed a voice in the shemlen politics that dominated the lands that once belonged to their people.

The Dalish needed a permanent home of their own. They needed nationhood.

When this all began, Isii had no intention of becoming the face of this campaign – but she could see that Deshanna was slowly grooming her for that purpose. Isii couldn’t say she was surprised. She had been one of the lucky ones. She was the first Dalish elf to ever graduate from the University of Orlais, not to mention the only one on their payroll. It was one of the most prestigious schools in the world. Higher education was a rarity among the Dalish. While most would jump at the opportunity, the price of a college education put it well beyond their reach. Were it not for a lot of scholarship hunting and crushing student loan debt, Isii never would have been able to attend. She half-suspected that they only offered her an acceptance letter as some formality – a way to pat themselves on the back for being so inclusive while reassuring themselves that she wouldn’t ever set foot in their classrooms.

They underestimated just how insanely stubborn Isii could be.

With her association with the university, the hope was that her word would hold more weight among the shems. If anyone was going to speak for her people, it made sense that it would be her. She could keep a low profile now, but once La Conférence started, she’d be expected to play politics with the monarchs of Thedas.

And she was dreading every second of it.

She took a deep breath, her eyes drifting back toward the counter. The baker was still filling orders, but the line of customers was slowly thinning out. She took a sip from her lipstick-stained cup. The tea wasn’t even half-finished but it was already growing cold. She supposed she’d been there longer than she’d anticipated.

Though that wasn’t much of a surprise, either.

If she was being totally honest with herself, she was finding excuses to linger in Le Pain Loup. She found herself carrying her laptop more often, setting up at her table in the corner in order to do the work she would normally have done from home. She could justify it somewhat. Free Wifi and comfy chairs encouraged such behavior. Besides, it wasn’t as if someone camped out with their computer was an odd sight to see in any number of the businesses within walking distance of the university. Solas was lucky he didn’t have undergrads doing homework and taking naps there between classes.

He seemed to enjoy her company, even when the two of them were merely sharing the same space while focusing on their separate jobs. When work was slow, he’d occasionally look over her write-ups concerning the artifacts in Kenric’s collection and give his insight. Though she couldn’t exactly cite his visions from the Fade as evidence to back up her analysis, his comments did often guide her research in new directions. If nothing else, his stories were fascinating to listen to. And she had to admit, she liked those moments when he’d lean in, silently reading over her shoulder, his hand braced on the back of her chair. As silly as it was, his closeness made her skin tingle. He hadn’t had that effect on her before that shared dream- that elephant in the room that they hadn’t spoken about in the weeks since it happened. She’d been attracted to him before, but now she knew what it felt like to kiss him. She knew how his hands felt on her bare skin. She knew what he sounded like when he moaned.

And knowing that was making it harder and harder to respect boundaries.

He still hadn’t said anything about the date. He hadn’t even acknowledged that the idea of them dating had been suggested in the first place. Which was fine. She was fine. This was all incredibly fine. They were both adults. She understood that he probably had his reasons. She supposed it was a good sign that he was self-aware enough to know he had issues with commitment before starting to flirt with the idea of a relationship. Waiting for him wasn’t bothering her, but it did make her a little uneasy. She couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was something she was doing wrong. Was this whole routine of showing up at his work too much? She didn’t think she was coming off as clingy, but she sometimes had her doubts. Still, he hadn’t made any objections. He seemed happy to have her around.

At least, she hoped he was.

Isii let out a sigh, taking another swig of cold tea before returning to her keyboard.

***

Solas had been busy filling orders when he saw her come into his shop. They were able to do little more than exchange smiles as she quietly set herself up at her usual table in the corner. Even as he rushed to meet the demands of the ever-growing line of customers, he’d take a few moments to steal glances in her direction, noting small details as he did. The color of her scarf complimented her eyes, a deep green that was slung loosely against her chest. She wore a dress despite the cooling weather. The hem was short enough that when she crossed her legs he could see the smallest hint of her vallaslin where it dipped along her thigh. It was undeniably alluring, though he doubted that was her intent. She appeared to be dressed more for comfort than anything else. She was frowning more than usual as she stared at her screen. Her habit of chewing on her lips when she was tense told him that whatever she was focused on, it wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Admittedly, he found that habit in particular rather distracting.

She glanced up as the last of his customers left, smiling brightly as the door swung closed once more. “That was one heck of a rush,” she mused, leaning back in her seat. “I considered offering to help but you seemed to be handling yourself fairly well.”

He cracked a small, private smile as he shifted behind the counter, gathering his materials so he could return to the task he set out for himself before the sudden influx of business. He had a small cake that had to be ready for pickup that evening and it was certainly cool enough now for him to apply the frosting.

“What are you working on today?” he asked as he heard her shift out of her seat. “More archeological research?”

“No,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Clan business. Nothing of interest to you, I’m sure.” She watched as he began to spread the icing, leaning against the counter’s edge.

“Was there something you needed?”

“Not particularly. I just like watching you work.”

He hummed quietly. “I suppose that’s acceptable,” he said, glancing up briefly to offer her a grin.

“I’m glad to see you’re not hurting for business, at least. It looks like you’re getting rather popular, baker.”

“I do what I can,” he said simply.

“Have you thought about expanding? Like maybe moving to another location? Don’t get me wrong, I like having you here but you’d probably make more money if you were further uptown. Rich Orlesian shems do like their sweets and as stupid as it is, I know a lot of them probably wouldn’t come this far south on account of it not being the most fashionable district.”

“I am content where I am,” he replied, pulling the last of the frosting from the bowl. “Besides, I am in no rush to see my painting covered over so soon,” he added, nodding distractedly toward the mural on the wall. Her eyes shifted over to it, scanning the image.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, actually.” He nudged the bowl closer to her without comment as she spoke. He knew she often liked to taste the remnants of his frostings and glazes while they talked. “The artist that you hired to paint it… did they come up with the design, or did you give them specifications?”

He chuckled. “Both, I suppose, as I’m the one who painted it.”

Her eyes widened slightly, her brows lifting. “Are you serious?”

“Do you find that hard to believe?”

“No, it’s just…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at the mural once more, her eyes narrowing. “Not what I expected. It’s a brilliant recreation of Pre-Andrastian elvhen art. Was there a piece in particular you based it on?”

“No. It’s fair to say I am simply familiar with the style.”

She grinned, swiping her finger along the edge of the bowl, slowly lifting frosting to her lips. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

He resisted the urge to smirk. “If you say so.”

“So you’re an artist too? Professionally or...”

“Merely a hobby.”

“That’s a heck of a lot of talent for a hobby.”

“I’m pleased you are impressed.”

She took another swipe of frosting, larger this time. “So what brought you to Val Royeaux? I assume you haven’t been here long.”

“And why would you make that assumption?”

She shrugged. “You said you moved around a lot. And when I Googled your bakery, I saw you only opened up shop this year. I don’t know… I figured maybe you moved here shortly before that?”

“Ah. I see. I suppose all sense of mystery shall eventually be ruined by the internet,” he said sarcastically. “How will I ever cope now that you can learn all of my secrets with little more than your fingertips and a few subtle keystrokes?”

Her lips spread into a slow smirk, her brow arching suggestively. “There are more interesting ways I could learn about you with my fingertips,” she teased, her finger briefly dipping past her lips as she sucked it clean of frosting. His eyes could not help but follow her mouth… the movement of her tongue… the way her lips slid over her skin…

He cleared his throat, his jaw tense as he returned his gaze to the cake.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, clearly aware of his discomfort. “I was just making a joke. I wasn’t trying to make that weird.”

“I know,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on his work as he gave a short shake of his head. “It’s fine.”

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He checked it briefly as she watched him. “You don’t look fine,” she said quietly. The apprehension in her voice was undeniable.

He frowned at the screen, reading the newest message as a second came through.

**_[B]: Call me. We need to talk._ **

**_[B]: Now, Banal’ras. Time-sensitive. Concerns your latest “gift”._ **

His brow furrowed deeper. “Solas?”

“Apologies,” he said distractedly, wiping his hand on his apron, not lifting his eyes from the phone as he stepped toward the back room. “Something has come up that I must address. A moment.”

Isii watched him disappear into the back, worrying her fingers against the edge of the counter as she felt a tight knot form in her stomach. That had been a stupid thing to say. She was making herself look desperate, wasn’t she? And he obviously wasn’t interested. She saw how uncomfortable he looked. That wasn’t the face of someone who was just playing hard to get.

“It’s not you.”

The voice startled her. Isii turned her head toward the sound, surprised to find a man standing beside her. He was a young, pale thing; thin and long-limbed and anxiously staring at her from behind a wispy curtain of white-blonde hair. His clothing was utterly bizarre – tattered and worn leathers stitched haphazardly with rough cloth and a wide-brimmed hat that defied description. Having him so suddenly appear at her side made her jump and he tensed, his hands lifting in front of him defensively.

“It’s not you,” he repeated, more forcefully this time even as his voice seemed to quiver. “It’s him.”

Isii frowned. “What?”

The stranger’s eyes moved toward the back room where Solas had vanished from sight. “Lonely, lonesome, alone. An old fear, deep and quiet and unspoken and now inevitable. They no longer linger and he is the last. He knows he will be alone when the end comes.”

There was an eerie quality to the way he spoke, his eyes drifting back to meet hers, pained and narrowing. “He tried to fix it,” he continued. “Carved into pieces. Blocked. Broken. It was never supposed to be like this. The sacrifice was necessary, even though it pained him. He left and leapt and did nothing but fall.”

Isii stared back at him, baffled. “Listen… I don’t know-”

“It didn’t work.” He said that as if it would add clarity even though it explained nothing. He seemed distraught, struggling to find the words. “He knows now that it will never work. He can’t undo so he endures.”

“Are you talking about Solas?” she asked cautiously.

His face brightened as if relieved to find she understood. “You make him happy,” he said. “But he doesn’t know how to _be_ happy. He doesn’t know how to be content knowing the pieces will never fit back together again.” The man stared at her sadly before lowering his gaze, watching over his fingertips as he nervously pressed them together. “He just needs time,” he said quietly. “But there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re more _right_ than anything he’s-”

He stopped suddenly, the sound of Solas’s approach drawing his eyes toward the empty doorway. “I’m not supposed to let you see,” he whispered quickly. His tone changed as if mimicking someone else, reciting words that he’d heard before. “The beings in this world do not understand what you are as I do, Cole. You are welcome to stay but do not let them see your true nature. It would raise far too many questions.”

He grew quiet then, studying her before lifting his hand. Isii flinched, pulling back, assuming he was reaching out to touch her but he simply sighed. _“Forget.”_

She blinked, finding herself staring at the mural once more, a wave of confusion quickly washing over her. It wasn’t quite déjà vu. No. Something else; like speaking only to lose one’s train of thought mid-sentence. She blinked again, looking around the shop as the baker reappeared. “Apologies for the interruption. I had to-” His words stopped short as Solas stared at her, his eyes shifting to the empty space beside her before his brow tensed. “Is everything alright, lan’sila?” he asked, studying her face.

“Yeah…” she said distractedly, shaking her head. “Yeah. Sorry. I guess I just zoned out for a bit.”

His frown only deepened, his eyes focusing off into the middle-distance. “Something wrong?” she asked, her head tilting. “Whatever that thing on your phone was, you don’t seem exactly pleased about it.”

He let out a short breath, slipping his cell back into his pocket. “Merely reassuring a customer who is proving to be very needy,” he said dryly. He watched her for a moment before his expression softened. “I’m afraid the timing was rather poor. I do not want to leave you with the impression that you’d upset me.”

“Not even worried,” she said with a smile, waving her hand dismissively through the air. “I should probably stop bugging you and let you get back to work anyway. I’ll be in my corner if you need me,” she added with a playful wink. Solas could see the distinct change in her mood as she returned to her table. When he'd left, she’d been anxious, worried that she had offended him, and now she was happy and relaxed.

His eyes moved back to the spirit responsible for this alteration. Cole gave him an apologetic look, following him a few moments later when he carried the newly-frosted cake into the back.

“I was only trying to help.”

“I know, Cole,” he said quietly, his voice low so it would not carry toward the front of the shop. “I am not angry.”

“You don’t like that I made her forget.”

“I would prefer you do not alter her mind, even if your intent is good.”

“But you said-”

“She is familiar with spirits,” he said, keeping his eyes down as he carefully boxed the cake. “She would not fear you as others would if you explained what you are.”

Cole paused for a moment, thinking. “But she would fear what you are if she knew.”

Solas’s hands stilled in their task. “I know,” he murmured, his gaze still lowered.

“I won’t tell her. I promise.”

“I would appreciate that, Cole.”

Cole shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flitting toward the doorway. “It would only make the hurt worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Banal'ras means "shadow". It's Solas's codename, as "B" still does not know his identity.


	15. Funalis

_**[Isii]: Happy All Soul’s Day.** _   
_**[Isii]: I suppose today is a day you get to sleep in, huh baker?** _

Solas’s lips curled into a lazy smile. He found an odd sense of pleasure in seeing her actual name come up whenever she texted him now, rather than lan’sila.

_**Well it would be if you didn’t text me.** _

_**[Isii]: Ha! It’s nearly 2! Don’t tell me you were still asleep?!** _

He chuckled, stealing a moment to fill his dryer with an armload of damp laundry before returning to his phone.

**_[Isii]: Did you find something especially thrilling in your dreams, fade walker?_ **

**_I did, in fact. But that is beside the point._ **   
**_It was merely an attempt at humor on my part._ **   
**_I have been awake for quite some time. And will be for many more hours, unfortunately._ **

**_[Isii]: I take it the shop will be open during the parade tonight?_ **

He started the dryer before pacing distractedly down the hallway, his eyes focused on their dialogue.

**_Yes. Though I see little reason for it.  
Most of my regular business will be driven away by the festivities._ **

**_[Isii]: I’m sure plenty of drunk and stoned college students will be very enthusiastic about your sweets._ **

He scoffed. **_Oh joy._**

**_[Isii]: Sounds like you’re not exactly feeling the holiday “spirit” ._ **

He laughed despite himself. **_It’s hard to tell through text just how wholeheartedly you were attempting to make a joke just now._**

_**[Isii]: Ouch.** _   
_**[Isii]: I admit, it wasn’t a good one.** _   
_**[Isii]: Are you going to be in costume?** _

**_Is that a serious question?_ **

**_[Isii]: Pffft. Spoil sport._ **

He returned to his desk, though found himself far more focused on his phone than the paperwork that lay before him. Briala’s latest side project could wait. **_And what precisely am I supposed to enjoy about this holiday?_** he typed quickly.

_**Is it supposed to amuse me to watch a crowd of foolish shemlen stumble about in outlandish costumes-** _   
_**Dressed up like “spirits” and parading around in a drunken stupor?** _   
_**More than half of them are dressed as demons because they have no real concept of the difference.** _   
_**And even in that, the majority don’t have the first idea about what spirits or demons really look like.** _   
_**It’s pageantry displaying inaccurate depictions of a reality very few of them comprehend.** _

**_[Isii]: You take things very seriously, Solas._ **   
**_[Isii]: Don’t take this the wrong way, but you might want to consider lightening up a bit._ **   
**_[Isii]: In the end, it’s just an excuse for a party._ **   
**_[Isii]: And since I'm a dirty heathen and not spending my daylight hours sitting in some Chantry and attending mass-_ **   
**_[Isii]:I am thoroughly enjoying lounging around in my underwear and not having to go to work._ **

He did not deny that the image that conjured broadened his smile somewhat.

**_Perhaps you are right.  
I apologize if I came across as overly critical._ **

**_[Isii]: Grumpiness is a part of your charm, lethallin._ **

His eyes narrowed, but he knew there was no sting to her teasing. He wondered if perhaps he should call her, rather than have an extended conversation via text. He wasn’t really certain if there was an etiquette to such things.

**_I take it you have plans for this evening?_ **

_**[Isii]: I thoroughly intend to exhaust myself dancing in the parade tonight.** _   
_**[Isii]: I’ll stop by the shop when we get to your block. Keep you company.  
[Isii]: That way you’ll get to see my costume.** _

**_Admittedly you have me curious now.  
_ ** **_What spirit do you intend to present yourself as?_ **

**_[Isii]: It depends on how cold it gets. If it’s too chilly, I can’t exactly go with my first plan._ **

**_Which is?_ **

**_[Isii]: Desire._ **

He paused for a moment, staring at the screen. That was… _No._ She had to be teasing him. He knew that she was familiar with spirits - and being a mage, she had probably encountered Desire demons on a number of occasions. She would know what they looked like, unlike the ignorant shemlen he’d complained about earlier.

But there was no conceivable way she would actually be seen in public dressed like that.

Or in anything resembling that.

Or so he assumed.

His fingers hovered over the keys before typing in his reply.

**_You can’t be serious._ **

**_[Isii]: I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you baker? ;)_ **

No. She was simply making a joke. He was certain of it.

Fairly certain, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little slice of Bread Wolf for you. Now I have to actually decide if Isii was being serious or not.
> 
> For those of you who may not be aware, I have recently been going through a cancer scare in my family - and I've found that the stress has been making it difficult to write. I will still try my best to keep giving you regular updates on this and other stories. As you can probably tell, I am aiming to write a pseudo-Halloween chapter... so if all goes according to plan, expect to see that by the end of the month. 
> 
> In other news (and totally unrelated to that) - [I have now have a Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/geekyjez?ty=h). If you're interested in supporting my writing (and making it possible for me to dedicate more time toward working on my own original fiction), I would truly appreciate your support. No pressure. It's there if you want it.


	16. Spirits

Everything was sound and movement. Bright. Shining. Loud. _So loud._ So many voices and thoughts, merging together, difficult to pull apart. Music seemed to be playing everywhere, competing melodies being driven down the street by a variety of vehicles. Floats carried wild displays of flashing lights, providing portable dance floors for those who rode them. A reclaimed school bus slowly inched down the street with people crowded onto its roof, waving enthusiastically as they passed him.

Cole found it overwhelming and fascinating all at the same time. Music played and people swayed their bodies, moving along in a slow progression - a pace, a parade, a party that snaked its way down the streets of Val Royeaux. The city was so quiet hours before while its people sat in prayer, but now it was alive.

Cole liked All Souls Day.

It was the one time of the year where he did not look strange; where he could let people see him and no one seemed to notice that he was different. They all celebrated behind their masks and their costumes - ranging from the mundane to the spectacular. They pretended to be spirits, so he could walk among them and pretend to be human.

He spotted her in the crowd and watched for a time, shaping her name on his lips the way he’d heard it in Solas’s voice, the way it sang through his friend’s thoughts - _Isii._ Cole liked her. She made Solas happy whenever she came into the shop. It was like the air felt brighter, buzzing, soft like silk and sweetly scented when the two of them were close to each other, even when they weren’t speaking. In all the years he’d known him, Cole hadn’t seen Solas like that before. It was a nice feeling - old and anchored elsewhere and slowly growing warmer.

Isii was walking with a small group of people. Friends, Cole supposed. Two humans and an elf. He did not recognize them. They hadn’t been in the shop before. He walked alongside them, watching. The humans, a man and a woman, strolled hand in hand. The man’s mind was a jumble. _Kisses. Rings. Panic. Fluttering in the stomach. Varric said everything was arranged. I want this to be perfect. Words, recited, rehearsed, the things I will say when the moment comes. I cannot promise you safety or security. This world will not allow for that. But would you stand beside me, from now until the end, no matter what comes?_

Cole wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t be nervous. She would have said yes years ago, if he’d asked. She would still say yes now. Cole kept his reassurances to himself, though. Solas had told him to be careful with what he said tonight. He was pretending to be something he was not, after all.

If anyone knew how to do that, it was Solas.

Isii was smiling, laughing over the music. She had horns strapped to her head, long and curved, her hair painted an unnatural shade. He knew what she was supposed to be. He’d know it from Solas’s thoughts alone. _Desire._ Except she didn’t look much like a demon to Cole.

Demons didn’t laugh like that.

Soon her eyes found his and she frowned, staring back at him. “Something I can help you with?” she asked.

Cole had forgotten for a moment that she could see him. He remembered now that people didn’t like it when he stared at them.

“He’s been wondering about your costume all day,” he blurted.

Her brow twisted in confusion. “Who has?” she asked.

“Solas.”

The sound of his name made her smile, her brow arching. “Really now?” she asked, trying not to laugh. “He told you that?”

Cole could hear the thoughts in his head even now, an echo of what came before.

_Even if she were to dress as Desire, it wouldn’t be truly as Desire appears. No. That would be… I wouldn’t exactly expect her to pierce her nipples for the sake of a costume._

_Assuming they are not already-_

_No. Think of something else._

“Not exactly,” Cole answered.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked, shifting the strap of her bag out of the way in order to display herself to him.

“You’re not Desire,” he said, shaking his head. “Desire twists, sours, takes things that should bring happiness and makes them hurt. They are dark, alone, unfulfilled and longing to feel something real. They crave what they cannot have and they’ll hurt people to get it. You’re not like that.” There was confusion on her face again, her head tilting. Did he say something wrong? “But he’ll like it,” Cole added quickly. “Solas likes looking at your skin.”

The elf beside her snorted and Isii nudged her with her elbow.

“I take it you and Solas are close?” Isii asked, trying to stifle a chuckle.

“He’s my friend,” he beamed. “He helps, so I help him.”

“And what are you supposed to be?” the elf beside her asked, the thin lines of her tattoos peeking out from beneath her mask.

“I’m Cole.”

“No, silly,” she said with a laugh. “Your costume. What spirit are you?”

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “Compassion.”

“Aww isn’t that sweet?” the elf cooed, grinning. “A bit funny looking. Apparently Compassion wears a lovely hat.”

“Have I seen you around the shop or something?” Isii asked, peering at him. “I swear you look familiar.”

“You shouldn’t remember me,” Cole said plainly. She gave him an odd look before shrugging.  

“I was planning on stopping at the bakery for a bit when the parade passes by. Want to walk with us?”

Cole’s smile widened. “Yes,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “I would like that.”

***

Solas didn’t turn when he heard the shop’s door open. He was busy wiping down the display case, trying to scrub away the sticky remnants of a drunken college student’s spilled beverage. He was irritated, to say the least. Business had been as slow as he’d predicted it would be - to the point where he didn’t know why he bothered being open at all. It was true that the parade route brought lots of foot traffic to the neighborhood but the sidewalks were blocked with loiterers - merrymakers pausing to rest, to drink and to chat, to socialize rather than shop. Occasionally a few of them would wander in the door, their slurring and staggering growing more pronounced as the night went on.

Hence the drunkard who carelessly tipped their drink over and left him to clean up the mess.

He thought little of the footfalls approaching him from behind, metal jingling softly with each step. He was nearly done with his task and would attend to the needs of this new customer soon enough. He jerked when he felt a pair of hands slip themselves over his eyes, the warmth of a body pressing against his back. “Guess who?” Isii’s familiar voice murmured in his ear, lips barely brushing the tip in what was certainly an accidental caress. Even so, it sent a pleasurable chill down his spine. “Enjoying your late night business hours, baker?”

He smiled, reaching up to touch her wrist, his fingers finding thick bracelets and soft skin. “Hardly,” he muttered, gently pulling her hands away. “I would much rather be at home reading or-”

His words stopped short when he turned, his eyes settling on her. She had horns strapped to her head, resting over plum-stained hair which she wore down, loose waves falling around bare shoulders. The long line of her throat was accentuated by a tall golden collar, chains draping from it to fall against the swell of her breasts. Unlike Desire, her chest was not entirely bare. The top she wore was small, likely taken from an old bathing suit, covering what was necessary for the sake of modesty while serving as the foundation for the chains to be stitched into place. A sash rode low on her hips, braided in the back to form a makeshift tail, a pair of tight leggings showing every muscular curve of her thighs and calves. Jewelry marked her wrists and ankles, delicate golden chains, similar to the ones that hung from her ears. He’d never noticed the piercings that lined the length of her ears before. He supposed he’d simply never seen her wearing their adornments.

He gawked for a moment and she grinned at his silence. “Or what?” she prompted. Only then did he realize that he’d stopped mid-sentence, his thoughts quickly fleeing from whatever he had intended to say.

“You look…”

She giggled as he paused again, arching her brow. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “I believe Desire would consider you overdressed.”

She laughed brightly, chains shaking as she did. “I wasn’t exactly planning on wandering around topless, Solas. I can sacrifice accuracy for modesty.”

“This is modest?”

“Not exactly.” She raised a brow, closing the distance between them, trailing a finger against the front of his apron. “I’ve always thought Desire’s nudity came off as a bit desperate, anyway. Like they were trying too hard.” She smiled. “Then again, they’re all supposed to look a little different, depending on the viewer. For all I know, Desire looks nothing like this to you.”

“Perhaps not quite like the demon, no,” he said, shaking his head. “But in terms of looking like something I desire…” He let the sentence hang and she smiled - a rather shy grin, considering her attire. He resisted the temptation to let his eyes wander, focusing only on her face. Her makeup was much heavier than usual, her eyes thickly lined with a smoky black that blended into violet. The contrast made her irises seem strangely sharper, deeper - a more complex green than what he had noticed before. _She is so beautiful._ Even this charade of a demon, a facade that held little attraction for him, did nothing to diminish the sweetness of her smile, the way it made her eyes brighten as they narrowed over her rising cheeks. He brushed a curl back from her brow and heard the quietest softening in her breaths, her lips parting slightly.

He unconsciously wet his own.

“Brithas ir’ina’lan’ehn.” The words fell from his lips before he could catch himself, before he could consider whether or not he _should_ have said it. Even so, it didn’t make the sentiment any less true. His hand lingered by her cheek and he felt it warm beneath his touch.

“Isalas em?” she teased. A joke, certainly, on account of her costume.

“That is your goal, is it not?” he asked, the corner of his lips lifting. “By your own choice, you are supposed to be the embodiment of Desire tonight.”

She hummed happily. “You should have gotten dressed up too,” she said, her thumb tracing the cleft of his chin with a light pinch. “Maybe as Pride, on account of your name?”

“You are not the first nor likely the last to make that connection,” he said dryly. “I would prefer Wisdom, though I suppose it matters little. I had no intention of donning a costume.”

“Maybe next year I can convince you.”

 _On the assumption that I am even still in Val Royeaux come next year,_ he thought. Rather than share his doubts, however, he simply smiled. “Perhaps.”

“I’m sad that you have to work tonight,” she said. “I’m meeting up with some friends later for a little party. Nothing fancy. Trouble is… everyone in the group has known each other for years. I’m the newcomer. It’s kinda hard not to feel a bit out-of-place when they all get going.” She picked her fingers idly along the front of his apron. “It would be nice to have you there. You know - to not be the only one in attendance who didn’t get all of their inside jokes.”

“Laughing with unfamiliar names on their lips, places and times she doesn’t know.” Cole’s voice cut in suddenly. Isii startled, turning to face the boy as he crouched on one of the chairs in the corner of the shop. “Words about a home that isn’t quite hers. Marcher, yes, but not the same. Kirkwall is a long way from the outskirts of Wycome.”

“Gods, Cole,” Isii said with a laugh. “I didn’t hear you come in. Where did you wander off to?”

“The woman cried because he never called. I had to help.” His eyes darted to Solas. “She doesn’t remember, but she feels better now.”

“I take it the two of you have been introduced?” Solas asked cautiously.

The spirit grinned. “I found Isii while walking. She likes making new friends.”

“What was that about Wycome?” Isii asked. “Did Merrill tell you where I was from?”

“Sabrae was different, but she understands. More than most. No,” he finally answered, shaking his head. “She didn’t have to. Your thoughts are very loud here. This day is for the dead, but do the Orlesians remember the bones buried beneath them, the lives they took when they marched? You do. You celebrate the lives they have forgotten because someone has to remember them.”

Isii’s expression grew very still and Cole looked nervously to each of the elves that stood before him. “Why would you say that?” Isii asked, her tone chilling.

“Cole,” Solas began delicately, “did you tell Isii what you are?”

“Oh,” he said quietly, his brows lifting at the revelation. “No. Sorry. She still thinks it’s a costume. Fake. A trick.”

“Cole is a spirit,” Solas explained. Isii’s eyes darted to him before returning to the boy.

“Outside of the Fade?”

“Yes,” Solas said calmly. “He is unique in that fashion. I have not known others to make such a transition.”

“But he looks-”

“Like a human boy,” Solas answered, “an appearance he has had since well before I met him.”

“Cole,” the spirit said, nodding. “A mage. I could not help him so I became him.” He frowned. “I’m sorry. I said something wrong. I’ll try again-”

The shop’s door opened, a woman poking her head inside. She was dark-haired and human, her piercing blue eyes fixing on Isii. “Sorry for cutting in, but are you gonna be much longer?” she asked, arching a brow. “Anders seems especially antsy to get to the party - and I’m having a bit of a time not losing Merrill in the crowd.”

“I’ll be out in a sec.” The woman seemed satisfied with this answer, the door swinging shut once more. Isii’s gaze shifted between Solas and Cole before she let out a laugh. “Just when things were getting interesting.”

“I am sorry if he left you unnerved,” Solas apologized, but Isii brushed it off.

“Fascinated, not unnerved,” she said. “I just wish I didn’t have to run out like this. I’ve never seen a spirit that took physical form. I didn’t know it was even possible.” She gave Cole a sheepish smile. There was no small amount of caution in her steps as she approached him. Even so, she extended her hand. “Meeting you was certainly very interesting, Cole. I hope I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

Cole stared at her hand for a moment before taking it in his own, shaking it with a level of awkward stiffness. Still, he smiled broadly.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “You will see me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Brithas ir’ina’lan’ehn - You look very beautiful.  
> Isalas em? - Do you desire me?


	17. Awkward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of significant plot changes, the ending of this chapter has been re-written.
> 
> Content Warning: Mild Sexual Content.

Sera waited. She hated waiting, but she had to watch for the right opportunity. Timing was the key. It was the only way she was going to be able to pull this off properly.

That asshole was _always_ on his damn phone - which made it the perfect target for a prank.

She just had to figure out how to get her hands on it first.

Solas kept his cell in the side front pocket of his pants - usually on the right - so it wasn’t as if she could easily swipe it when it wasn’t in use. She couldn’t just shove her hand down her boss’s pants without him noticing. And when it wasn’t there, he was usually staring at it and typing.

But the weather was getting colder and Sera noticed with some delight that he kept his phone in the outer pocket of his pea coat whenever he had it on. She could work with a coat. It was looser on the body than a pair of pants; easier to pickpocket without being noticed. All she had to do was wait for a day when she had first shift. He’d prep the baked goods the night before, come in after lunch and take his break a few hours later. He’d put on his coat, she’d make some excuse to catch him before he walked out the door, slip the phone out without him noticing and voila - she’d have roughly an hour of getting to dick around with it before he’d come back. He’d probably notice it was missing eventually, but chances were he wouldn’t cut his break short just to walk back for it.

By the time he returned, she could clock out and make a convenient escape before the bastard knew what was up.

It wasn’t that she disliked Solas. He could be a bit of a prig, but she supposed working for him wasn’t the worst gig she’d ever taken. On the books, she was making decent coin - and off the books he was paying her a heck of a lot more than a bakery girl who couldn’t cook for shit could reasonably expect to earn. He set her up with a pretty nice apartment too. That was honestly the best selling point to his original proposal. She was getting a bit tired of couch surfing.

Sera didn’t know much about Solas. She never figured out how he managed to track her down or how he knew she was a Jenny. He just showed up one day in The Hive - a dingy little cyber cafe that she liked because they weren’t too picky about what you got up to on their network. He sat down next to her, bought her a drink and got right down to business. She didn’t really know what he was up to. She had a strict policy of not giving much of a shit which seemed to be preferable on his end. The arrangement was simple. He put money in her pocket, she gave him an extra hand around the bakery, and he asked for certain favors from her and her friends. Information gathering, mostly. It was a bit of a turn off when she found out he was in bed with Briala’s people, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. B’s folks had been sniffing around the Jennys for awhile now. Lured a couple of them into their stupid little rebellion or whatever. Not that Sera held it against any of her friends - they were free to do whatever they wanted. But politics was bullshit. It would always be bullshit, no matter who was in charge.

If Solas wanted to get himself mixed up in that shit, more power to him. As long as she got paid, she didn’t care how he spent his time.

The plan went off without a hitch. Sera waited for Solas to leave before slipping the pilfered phone from her apron, pacing back to the stool that sat behind the counter as she poked at the screen. His phone was pretty basic. Not a lot of contacts. It seemed like he only really used it to communicate with _B_ , _V.Tethras_ and _Isii_. Either he had no friends _(a real possibility)_ or this was just a burner phone. Dude as shady as he was, she’d vote the latter.

She was in the middle of downloading some new ringtones for him when a new text came in. Sera smiled, sniggering at the sound that rang out from the mobile. Curious, she clicked on the message as a second one arrived.

**_[Isii]: I thought of you when I was at work today. The museum acquired a new elvhen fresco. I think you would like it. It reminded me of the mural in your shop._ **

**_[Isii]: Plus, you know. It features a bald elf. Not hard to pretend that it’s you._ **

Sera hesitated for a moment before her grin deepened, her fingers running over the keypad.

**_I’ll have to check it out sometime._ **

**_I’ve been thinking about you too._ **

**_In fact, I’ve found it hard to think about anything else today._ **

_That sounded like Solas, right?_ She made a point to spell everything correctly. That seemed to add a level of authenticity to posing as her boss.

**_[Isii]: Oh? And what sort of thoughts were these?_ **

Sera giggled, pausing for a moment before typing with a smirk. **_Dirty ones._**

There was a brief pause.

**_[Isii]: Is that so? Care to elaborate? ;)_ **

Sera leaned her elbows on the counter, staring at the screen for a time.

**_Nope. I’ll let you wonder about that one for a bit._ **

**_[Isii]: I don’t know if I’d do that, if I were you._ **

**_[Isii]: I do have a very active imagination._ **

Sera snorted.

**_[Isii]: You sure you can’t gimme something? A little clue?_ **

Sera chewed on her lip, thinking.

**_Fine. You remember that dress you wore the other day? The red one. Low cut._ **

**_[Isii]: I take it you liked it?_ **

**_You know I did._ **

**_It gave me a very good view._ **

**_I’d like to see you wear it more often._ **

**_I’d like to see it off of you even more._ **

Isii didn’t respond right away. Sera wondered for a moment if she’d pushed the joke too far - but sure enough, the phone buzzed in her hands as the woman replied.

**_[Isii]: Now that’s a nice thought._ **

Sera grinned, typing enthusiastically.

**_You like that?_ **

**_What if I told you I thought about you sitting up on the counter here in front of me?_ **

**_A short skirt like that would give me a pretty spectacular view then…_ **

**_It would be very hard to resist the urge to touch…_ **

**_Slipping my hands under your skirt…_ **

**_[Isii]: You must have had a lot of time on your hands if you were thinking about that at work._ **

**_It’s been a boring day._ **

**_You could make it less boring._ **

**_[Isii]: And how do you propose I do that?_ **

**_You could send me something._ **

**_A picture maybe?_ **

**_[Isii]: Are you seriously asking me for nudes?_ **

There was a small tug on Sera’s conscience. Maybe this was a bit much? Sure, it was funny, but there was definitely a bit of a creep factor to it if she actually got the woman to send her a picture of her bits. It’d be worth it to see the look on Solas’s face though...

 ** _Nothing porno like or anything,_** she added quickly.

**_just… you know…_ **

**_something to get the imagination going._ **

**_[Isii]: Ane harellan telam, tel’ane?_ **

_Shit._ Sera’s eyes narrowed, as if peering at the message would somehow translate the gibberish. She knew Isii spoke Elvish. She’d watched Solas get that stupid grin every time she uttered any of that nonsense around him. Sera could just gloss over it, except it was a question. Questions needed answering, right?

She tapped the phone, unsure of herself as she typed. **_Yeah. Sure._**

**_[Isii]: Silas ma unharas em?_ **

This could be dirty talk for all she knew - which she absolutely wouldn’t put past the two of them. Sera chewed on her lip nervously. **_Sounds good to me…_**

**_[Isii]: Well Sera, if you wanted lewd pictures of me you should have just asked me directly._ **

_Andraste’s tits._ Sera let out a huff, typing back to her.

**_Well, shit whistles._ **

**_[Isii]: XD_ **

**_[Isii]: Solas is going to kill you when he reads this._ **

**_[isii]: Did he leave his phone in the shop or something?_ **

**_Something like that._ **

**_How did you know it was me?_ **

**_[Isii]: Process of elimination._ **

**_[Isii]: I knew it wasn’t him. You were a likely candidate._ **

**_[Isii]: Do you really think Solas would be the type to start sexting me at all, let alone while at work?_ **

**_idk. I always assumed he was a bit of a perv._ **

“ _Sera._ ”

She glanced up from the phone, the sternness of his voice startling her at first - but she couldn’t keep a straight face when she saw Solas glaring at her from the doorway. His eyes narrowed sharply as he unbuttoned his coat, walking briskly toward the counter. “And what exactly did you hope to achieve by stealing my phone?”

“Stealing?” Sera repeated with a laugh. “Who said anything about stealing? I was just keeping it company since you dropped it on your way out.”

He was still scowling as he snatched it from her hands, shoving it into his pocket without a second glance. “We both know full well I did not drop it.”

“Don’t be so scowly, baldy,” she called out to him as he disappeared into the back room, abandoning his coat in favor of his work apron. “It was just a bit of fun.”

“I would appreciate it if you did not seek entertainment at the expense of my privacy,” he said firmly. Sera rolled her eyes as she clocked herself out on the register’s computer.

He was still glowering when she made her way into the back room to collect her purse. “Oh lighten up, droopy ears,” she said, chuckling as she pulled her apron over her head and tossed it onto the nearby wall hook.

His lips parted to reply but he fell silent as a loud, obscene moan announced itself from his pants pocket. His face paled, startled as his hand moved to retrieve his cell phone as it sounded out again - the phone vibrating to the unmistakable gasp of a woman having a very, _very_ good time.

Sera snickered as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “Can’t imagine who’d that’d be.”

“Sera-” His tone was admonishing, albeit distracted as he opened the texts that had just arrived, his eyes widening as he saw the exchange.

“Tell Isii I say bye,” she said with a grin as she headed briskly into the front of the shop.

_“Sera!”_

The elf merely cackled as she hurried out the front door.

***

**_I have retrieved my phone. And I apologize profusely for Sera’s meddling._ **

**_[Isii]: Good to have you back, baker._ **

**_[Isii]: No apologies needed. I found it amusing._ **

Solas frowned as the messages let out another chorus of perverse moaning. He quickly silenced the ringer before typing. **_That makes one of us._**

He stood behind the counter for a time, fiddling with the settings on his phone. He’d never bothered altering the sound files before and was more than frustrated to find that he didn’t know how Sera had managed it.

**_I cannot seem to determine how to change my ringtones back to their default state._ **

**_This is more than bothersome._ **

**_[Isii]: Sorry to hear that. I’d offer to pop in and help, but I just made it back home. Not exactly looking forward to hopping onto a new bus headed back downtown._ **

**_Nor would I ask you to._ **

**_Though I am relieved that you were not tricked by her attempts to pose as me._ **

**_That would have been… awkward, to say the least._ **

**_[Isii]: Ah, but if I had been fooled, then maybe you would have something very interesting to look at right now. ;)_ **

**_[Isii]: She was angling for lewd pictures, after all._ **

Solas chuckled. ** _As tempting as that is, I am glad they were not given. I would not ask for such a thing so flippantly._**

**_[Isii]: Oh? So does that mean you’ll ask for them seriously? :P_ **

**_That depends, I suppose._ **

**_[Isii]: On what?_ **

**_If such a thing were being offered seriously._ **

There was a brief pause before she replied.

**_[Isii]: And if they are?_ **

Solas jumped reflexively as the door to his shop opened, his hand instinctively slipping the phone into his pocket. The question lingered though, distracting him as he tried to focus on attending to the new customers. Was she truly offering to send him some lurid photograph? Proposing such a thing hadn’t been his intention. He worried that perhaps what had been meant as flirtatious banter had been read as much more forward. If he were not preoccupied with work, he would likely be correcting the issue - reassuring her that there was absolutely no expectation on his part, that perhaps his tone had not been communicated correctly over text.

And yet the thought of her actually sending him something of that nature…

He had never addressed the issue of them becoming more intimate - a subject he had admittedly been avoiding ever since their encounter in the Fade. His desire for her felt crude in that context. She had given him ample opportunity to pursue her in a more appropriate manner, in a way that did not imply he simply wanted her for sexual gratification. But the idea of seeing her body, however exposed, framed in some alluring fashion was… not unpleasant.

He felt as though there must be some form of etiquette for this sort of thing, yet he was entirely ignorant of it.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, a sudden wash of anxious anticipation igniting his skin. He reasoned that it was probably a follow up message, some inquiry as to why he had not responded to her question. He stared at the customers, impatiently waiting for them to finish making up their minds as they looked over the display case. He was able to box their goods and ring them up quickly once they’d made their selections, ducking briefly into the back room as they made their departure.

He pulled his phone out once more, unlocking the screen.

**_[Isii]: Multi-Media Message. File sent: IMG_468.jpg. Click to View._ **

Solas froze, staring at the screen. She’d sent him an image. And given the context...

He swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly dry as he brushed his thumb over the text. Within seconds, the image appeared and he felt his face flood with heat.

The photograph cropped out much of her face, though he could see full, wet lips teasingly pinched between her teeth as she smirked. She was laying down, her hair falling against what he assumed to be her bed. The long line of her neck was exposed, bare save for a simple black cord, the wolf’s head pendant resting upon the small hollow at the base of her throat. The pale green sweater she wore was cut into a deep v, the neckline inched downward so that the slightest hint of black lace crept over the edge, accentuating the ample swell of her breasts. Below, it simply said: **_...Because I am more than willing to give you a little “inspiration” if you want it._**

He didn’t know how long he gawked at the image, lips parted as he scanned each detail. The photo was tame, considering what she could have sent him, yet the gesture itself and the promise it offered for more left his ears burning, both excited and embarrassed at how tempting it was. He studied her skin, imagined how soft it would feel, how it would taste, the sounds she would make if he-

He heard the door to his shop open again, tearing him from his thoughts as he turned off the screen, sliding the phone into his pocket once more.

He would reply as soon as he could.

It would give him some time to think of an appropriate response.  

***

Isii chewed on her lips as she stared at her phone, growing more anxious as each second passed.

Maybe sending the picture to him while he was at work wasn’t the best plan. In her defense, it had been an impulsive decision.

She let her phone fall onto the bed beside her, letting out a slow breath. She never really knew where she stood with Solas or how much flirtation was too much. The line between what they were and what they _could_ be was blurred, at best. They were friends who flirted. Friends who caught each other staring. Friends who now sent racy pictures, apparently. There wasn’t really a word for that.

Even as the uncertainty of how he’d respond sat like a lump in the back of her throat, there was still a thrill to it all - knowing he was seeing her body the way she wanted to be seen. There was a certain sort of power in that.

Her phone rang and she nearly leapt upon it, rolling over onto her stomach, pushing her hair out of her face as she tilted the screen into view. Her enthusiasm quickly faded when she saw who it was, letting out a sigh as she swiped to answer.

“Savh, hahren.”

“How quickly can you come home?”

The suddenness of the question caught Isii off-guard, blinking back her confusion as she paused, frowning.

“Da’len?”

“I heard you, I’m just…” Isii sat up, pushing against her sheets as she curled her legs in front of her. “What do you mean come back home? Did something happen?”

“Clan Alasan is considering pulling their support from our proposal,” Deshanna said gravely. “If we lose them, I’m worried that Virnehn and Tillahnnen will follow.”

“Why?” Isii asked incredulously. “The Conference is nearly here. We’ve spent all this time preparing… Why drop out now?”

“I don’t know,” Deshanna answered. She could practically hear her Keeper frowning on the other side of the line. “I don’t know if something has scared them off or if they are simply losing faith in the whole endeavor. But if word gets out that there is any dissent in our ranks, if it looks like we’re not unified in this - it will weaken our entire argument for self governance as a nation state.”

“So what do you need me for?” Isii pressed. “I don’t exactly see how me leaving Orlais is going to help anything.”

“I’ve convinced Keeper Senthel to send a representative to meet with me personally and discuss the issue.”

Isii waited for her to continue as her Keeper paused. “And?”

“And who better to convince him than the woman who will be representing us at the Conference?”

“And you can’t just give him my number?”

“ _Da’len._ ”

Her chiding tone made Isii let out a tense breath, her eyes closing as she pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I have a life here, Deshanna. I can’t just drop everything on such short notice because someone needs some coaxing.”

“Your time in Orlais has been given to you in order to further prepare you for fulfilling your obligations to your clan,” Deshanna said sharply. “You have already stayed longer than we had agreed. You are no longer a student.”

“It’s not like I’m wasting my time here,” Isii argued. “My position at the University gives me more access to information about our history than I could ever get at home. We’ve talked about this-”

“And you can spare a few weeks in order to handle your business at home. There are other things to work on as well while you are here. Fittings for your formal attire, going over your speech...”

Isii rubbed her hand along her face, her jaw clenching in frustration. She was right, of course. She was Clan Lavellan’s First. Their needs were supposed to come before her own. “Two weeks,” she said defeatedly. “I can give you two weeks at most.”

She heard the phone rustle on the end of the line, the distinctive hard tapping of Deshanna’s typing in the background. “It looks like I can get you a red-eye flight to Wycome tonight, departure around 7:45. Will that give you enough time?”

“Tonight?” She asked, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

“Their representative is supposed to arrive tomorrow evening. I want you here to greet him.”

Isii glanced at her watch. The museum would still be open. It would be short notice, but she still had time to call in and inform them. Maybe a quick call to Merrill too - see if she wouldn’t mind filling in for some of her shifts. An email to Monsieur Rochette would take care of her university job. “Fine,” Isii said with a sigh, “I can make that work. I’m going to have to let you go so I can make some calls.”

“I’ll have the flight information sent to your email as soon as I have everything arranged.”

“Oh.. um. Rental car? It’s an awfully long drive to have one of you pick me up.”

“I’ll see what I can get reserved for you. It’s not like I expect you to walk from the airport.” She paused. “It will be good to have you home again, da’len. Even for such a short time.”

Isii wished she felt the same way. Part of her certainly missed her home and the friends she’d left behind when she moved to Orlais - but she couldn’t help but feel as though her arm was being twisted in order to get her back there. “I guess I’ll see you sometime tomorrow,” she said, trying to mask her frustration. “Dar’eth.”

Her Keeper echoed the farewell before hanging up. Isii slumped back onto her bed with a heavy sigh. Dropping everything to run back to her clan wasn’t exactly something she was looking forward to - but there was no time to focus on that now.

After a quick call to the museum, an apologetic voicemail to Merrill and a very concise email to Rochette, Isii rummaged around her bedroom, trying to pack. She checked her phone distractedly, eyeing the still-unanswered text from before.

That was certainly an awkward place to leave things off.

She dialed Solas’s number. Normally she wouldn’t call him while he was at work, but she figured she should let him know she was leaving. If he tried to answer her later that evening, she might already be airborne and unable to respond. She pinned her cell between her shoulder and her cheek as she stuffed clothing into her suitcase.

Straight to voicemail.

It had been a long shot anyway. He wouldn’t answer his phone if there were customers.

She hung up without leaving a message.

Packing didn’t take long. She had a week’s worth of clothing, some basic toiletries and a few personal items. Isii rushed through a quick shower, changing into fresh clothing for her flight. She checked her email, printing out her ticket and rental car information before stuffing her laptop into her bag. She glanced down at her phone again. Still no response.

Apparently her photo hadn’t been _motivational_ enough on that front - assuming he’d even seen it yet.

She checked the time. _The bakery should still be open._ If she called for a cab and left now, she would still have time to swing by the shop before heading to the airport. She could pop in and then let him know she would be out of town for awhile. It seemed like the right thing to do. After all, she’d become a regular fixture in his shop. If she suddenly disappeared without warning, he would worry - right?

She could always tell him through another text - but this felt like something she needed to do in person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ane harellan telam, tel’ane? - You are a bad trickster, aren’t you?  
> Silas ma unharas em? - Did you think you tricked me?  
> Savh - Hi. Informal hello.  
> Dar'eth - go peacefully. Informal goodbye.


	18. To Wycome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTE: **_Because of some significant changes to my plot, the end of Chapter 17 has been re-written. Go back and re-read it before diving into this chapter._****

Solas was surprised to say the least when he spotted Isii entering his shop. He was ringing up a costumer, his gaze shifting curiously toward her as he worked, distractedly taking payment while she lingered by the counter. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” he murmured, turning his attention toward her as the Orlesian left, hugging his bag of bread under one arm. “I thought you said you were already home for the night.”

“I was,” she answered. “You didn’t answer your phone, so-”

 _Oh._ Had she really come all this way in order to get a response from him? True, it had been well over an hour since she’d sent that photo, but he wasn’t expecting -

Solas felt a sudden rush of heat in his cheeks as he shifted his gaze away. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, cutting her off. “I would have replied sooner, but I have been busy-”

“No, no, it’s not about that,” she corrected with a small laugh, shaking her head. “Sorry, I don’t have a lot of time. I have a cab waiting for me.” His brow furrowed, inquiring with a subtle tilt of his head. “I just stopped by to tell you… I have to go out of town for a while. My clan needs me to go back to the Marches. I just found out.”

His frown deepened as he stepped around the end of the counter. “And why would your clan suddenly call you away?”

“It’s complicated,” she said. “I have some business up north that they need me to take care of. Clan politics, that sort of thing.”

He studied her for a moment, a slow sense of clarity washing over his features. “You are a First.”

It wasn’t a question. How had it never occurred to him before? She was a Dalish mage. While the world outside of the clans commonly believed that the practice of exclusively assigning mages to positions of power was no longer done - he knew they were a people who would not easily let go of their traditions. If she was someone of little importance to her people, they would not make such demands of her. But as their future Keeper -

Isii’s head tilted slightly. “Does that surprise you?”

“I suppose I should have suspected it, given your arcane gifts,” he said. “When your Keeper calls you to the task, do you intend to take over for him?”

“Her,” she corrected. “And yes. That’s what is expected of me.”

“Expected, yes,” he said, “but is it what you want?”

She peered at him, seemingly confused. “It doesn’t really matter what I want,” she said. “I’m a First. That is what a First does.”

“I see,” he murmured, lowering his gaze. He hesitated a moment. “So the life you’ve built for yourself here in Orlais is temporary at best, is it not?”

Isii paused, shifting her weight uncomfortably as she straightened her purse strap. “I guess so. Eventually I’ll have to move back there.”

“Eventually,” he echoed, unable to mask his disappointment. It seemed silly to him, having such a level of attachment to a woman whose life he clearly knew very little about. Yet he could not help but feel some small ache at the thought that his time with her could be so much more fleeting than he had anticipated. Isii was not a young woman. She was clearly old enough and more than capable of taking over as Keeper, whenever her predecessor demanded it.

“It’s not like I’m leaving for good, Solas. At least, not yet. I’ll only be gone a week or two.” Isii smiled softly, arching her brow. “I assume you can take good care of my usual spot in your shop til then.”

Solas forced a small chuckle. “I suppose that is a manageable task.” He paused, studying her features. “When do you depart?”

“Tonight. I’m on my way to the airport now,” she said, glancing at her watch, “which means I should get going if I’m going to have enough time to make it through security.”

“Ah.” He gave a small nod. “Will you let me know when you’ve landed? Just so I know you’ve arrived safely.”

“It’s an overnight flight, falon,” she said, peering at him. “You really want me waking you up with a call?”

“It would be preferable, yes.”

Isii giggled, her smile widening. “Are you worried about me, baker?”

“I have never been fond of air travel,” he said simply. “Far too many possibilities that something could go wrong.”

“Well that’s a bit of a gruesome thing to say before I board a plane,” she teased.

He lowered his gaze again. “My apologies. I realize now how that sounds.” Solas offered her a weak smile. “I am certain everything will be fine.”

Isii’s expression softened as she looked up at him, taking a step closer. Her hand went to his arm with a light touch, bracing herself as she leaned up, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. Solas stilled, questioning his sudden urge to draw her closer, to turn his head and meet the press of those warm, wet lips with his own. When she pulled away he stopped her, his hand on her shoulder.

“Isii, I-”

Solas paused, his words fleeing as she peered up at him. “Yes?”

He swallowed, trying to start again. “I just…” His eyes drifted lower, studying the curve of her mouth as his hand moved to rest on the side of her neck, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Her breaths caught, quieted by anticipation as he inched himself closer, tentatively closing the distance between them.

“Before you go, I just… I wanted to…”

“Yes,” she whispered, tilting her chin up, the word breathed against his lips.

This time, it wasn’t a question.

Their mouths met in a gentle press- the soft and testing touch of unfamiliar skin making him hesitant to push for more. Isii let out the smallest of sighs, a hushed whimper of pleasure beneath it as he pulled away. She looked up at him, her face brightening into a shy grin, biting at her lip.

“I really do have to go,” she said, her tone making it clear that she wanted nothing else but to stay.

“I know.”

“Is this your way of giving me something to look forward to when I get back?” she asked, a hint of hopefulness behind her teasing.

“You could say that.” He grinned sheepishly before letting his hand fall away from her throat. “Have a safe trip, lethallan.”

Her smile widened sweetly as she backed away toward the door, her fingertips tracing her lower lip. “I’ll call you in a few hours,” she said. “Sule sal harthir, bradh’ajuelan.”

“Dar’eth shiral.”

***

Isii woke stiffly, stretching in her seat uncomfortably as they began their descent. Daylight had barely broken over the horizon, the city lights of Wycome still glittering below in the dim pre-dawn hours. She glanced out the window, studying the view as she tried to rub the ache from her neck. She’d slept as much as she could on the flight, though airplane seats never really made the task seem worthwhile in the end. Even with the nap, she was exhausted. Isii glanced at her watch, adjusting it to the local time, silently praying that there would be a coffee kiosk open in the airport. She still had a few hours left of driving ahead of her in order to reach her clan’s territory.

The fact that they were landing sent a small flutter into her stomach, unable to resist the urge to smile to herself as she thought of the phone call she was about to make. She wondered idly what Solas sounded like when he first woke up. His voice low and raspy from sleep, possibly a bit grumpy until he remembered that he’d asked her to disturb his rest. She covered her face with her hand, giggling to herself.

Gods, she had a crush on that man.

This infatuation seemed so childish. It made her feel like some sort of teenager, giddy at the mere thought of the way he’d kissed her. It had been such a simple thing. A rather innocent kiss - delicate and far too short, not even a hint of tongue. Even so, she could count the number of passionate kisses she’d had in the past that didn’t excite her nearly as much.

She didn’t know what it was about him that she liked so much. Perhaps it was the quiet nature of his flirtation. The slower pace of this building romance was unlike anything she’d experienced before. Her past relationships had always moved rather quickly - lovers eager to take her to bed at the first sign of interest. In the end, they never really developed beyond that. Once the initial sexual excitement dwindled, they’d simply drift apart. But Solas seemed to desire her in a different way. He appreciated her intelligence, seeming to delight in the way she would debate him or the insights she offered on Elvhen history. His attraction was reserved, but not entirely unspoken. He enjoyed simply spending time with her, even if it was limited to texts and phone calls between her visits to his bakery. And in turn, she felt more comfortable with him than with any of her exes. He had a way of putting her at ease, like she could truly be herself.  

The landing was a bit bumpy, jostling her as they touched ground, but soon the plane was taxiing toward the gate. The ding of the seatbelt sign turning off was immediately followed by a chorus of clicking buckles and the rustle of passengers gathering their belongings. Isii stooped down, dragging her bag out from under the seat in front of her, her hand slipping into the side pocket so she could turn her phone on.

It was empty.

She frowned, checking the pocket on the other side, but found nothing but the folded up print-outs of Deshanna’s emails. Her stomach began to tighten as she patted her jeans, then her coat, then started digging into the body of her purse.

_Shit._

She knew she had her phone. She _had_ to have her phone. She could remember turning it off as she went through the security checks in Val Royeaux. She _distinctly_ remembered pulling it out of the plastic tray after it had been scanned and setting it down with her other belongings as she put her shoes back on. Hadn’t she put it in her purse? She was _certain_ she put it in her purse.

Isii awkwardly wedged herself between the rows of seats, kneeling down, checking the floor beneath her chair, then the chair beside her, then the chairs in front of her. She ran her hand along the sides of the cushions, tried to squeeze her fingers between the seat and the bulkhead, positive it must have just slipped out and fallen somewhere. As the other passengers cleared, she checked around the other nearby rows as well, _positive_ that it had to have just fallen.

Her cellphone was nowhere in sight.

Isii cursed loudly, a long string of lewd Elvhen that she was certain drew some awkward glances as she tore through her bag again, practically dumping its contents out to take a full inventory. When she didn’t find it there, she pulled her suitcase down from the overhead compartment, searching the outer pockets, praying that maybe in her rushed state she’d simply forgotten she’d put it there instead.

But no. Her phone wasn’t there either.

_Cocking fenhedis, Dread Wolf take me, I swear to the Gods..._

The flight attendants were eyeing her impatiently as she gathered her things, grinding her teeth as she made her way off of the plane. She couldn’t believe she’d just left it there at the security check. She had been rushing to make it to her gate on time, but she couldn’t have been that forgetful. She was certain she must have dropped it somewhere along the way.

Mentally kicking herself, she wandered through the terminal, scanning for signs that would guide her toward the shuttle headed to the rental place where Deshanna had reserved a car for her. As she went, she tried desperately to remember Solas’s number. She hadn’t even thought to memorize it when she programmed it into her phone. Isii knew there was a six and a nine in there (for absolutely juvenile reasons), but otherwise her recollection was entirely blank. She couldn’t call his cell. The best hope she had was looking up the number for the shop online and waiting to catch him when he finally made it into work.

Isii stopped briefly to pay for the largest coffee she could find, grumbling silently to herself about how massively overpriced it was as she continued on her path. She was tired, irritable, and had a long drive ahead of her.

Whatever Deshanna had dragged her out here to accomplish, it had better be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> falon - friend  
> Sule sal harthir, bradh’ajuelan - til we hear from each other again, baker.  
> Dar’eth shiral - go safely on your journey


	19. Going Home

The early morning sun hit the treeline, illuminating the rich oranges and gold of autumn leaves that for a time matched the color of the sky. The further Isii drove from the city, the denser the woods became, the highway cutting a deep swath into the otherwise pristine landscape. The exit she took quickly dissolved into a dirt road, the rumble of small stones kicked up by her wheels adding an odd percussion to the static that was gradually growing louder in her speakers. Isii clicked off the radio with a sigh. The signal was growing weak the closer she got to Clan Lavellan’s territory. She wouldn’t miss it much. Without her phone’s playlists, she had to suffer through mindless Marcher’s top forty hits for the past few hours, which was only barely preferable to silence.

She couldn’t help but smile as she saw the sign marking the edge of her clan’s border, serving as a welcome as well as a warning for outsiders not to trespass. Beside it sat a large stone wolf, weathered and stained from its years as their silent sentinel. The figure of the Dread Wolf bore a similar duality - both protective as well as a constant reminder to be wary of that which lies beyond their lands.

She thought idly about how it would be nice to take a picture of it to show Solas.

And then immediately started cursing herself for losing her stupid phone.

The woods eventually gave way to small clearings, the landscape dotted with modest portable houses nestled among the trees. It was a far cry from the grandeur of Val Royeaux with their worn siding and occasionally boarded-up windows, but she couldn’t help but feel a subtle warmth in her chest at the familiarity. While she may have spent the last few years carving out a space for herself in Orlais, with its gleaming lights and sett-lined streets, these more humble surroundings would always feel like home.

Deshanna had clearly been anticipating her arrival, emerging quickly from her house as Isii parked her car. She was smiling broadly as Isii got out, her arms opening for a hug. “Andaran atish’an, da’len,” the Keeper murmured warmly, embracing her. “I hope the flight treated you well.”

“Well enough,” Isii said, returning the hug briefly before pulling away. “I lost my cell somewhere along the way, otherwise I would have called.”

“Isii!”

She turned to meet the excited squeal, her face brightening as a second elf emerged from her Keeper’s house, red hair bobbing as the woman scrambled quickly to greet her.

Or, as quickly as she could, considering the significant swell of her belly.

“Oh Gods, Karis, you’re huge!” Isii said with a laugh, reaching eagerly for a hug. “Creators, how many months along are you?”

“Seven, as of last week.”

_Seven months?_ Isii had heard about the pregnancy, but had it really been that long? It felt like she’d only learned her friend was getting married weeks ago. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it back for the wedding,” Isii said, cringing.

“De da’rahn. It’s fine. Oh, but I can’t wait for you to meet Athras! He’s sleeping now… lucky bastard,” she said with a giggle.

“I was going to say, shouldn’t you still be in bed?”

Karis ran her hand over her stomach. “Nah. Little one’s been kicking up a storm recently. It doesn’t look like they’re going to let up anytime soon.”

It was beyond bizarre to see Karis pregnant. Isii was a teenager by the time she’d been born. She could remember babysitting her, treating her like the little sister she’d never had, and now she was already married with a kid of her own on the way. The pair of them had been close before Isii left for college. As another mage, Karis trained under Deshanna just as she had, and Isii did what she could to help her along the way.

Being gone for the better part of six years was now starting to feel much longer than it had before.

Karis’s smile broadened. “It’s so good to have you home, lethallan. It’s been too long.” She glanced over to Deshanna. “Should I go make some coffee for you two?”

“Actually, I could use some sleep,” Isii said, rubbing her neck. “I barely caught a nap on the plane and I’m exhausted.”

Deshanna gave her a nod. “You should get some rest. You have a long day ahead of you.” She gestured down the road. “I had one of the guest houses prepared for you.”

“Do you need any help with your luggage?” Karis asked.

Isii grinned. “Like I’m going to let you carry any of it.” Karis stuck out her tongue playfully and Isii laughed, climbing back into her car. “I should be fine. Check on me in a few hours to make sure I’m still among the living.”

It didn’t take her long to get settled, stifling a yawn as she pulled out her laptop. Connecting to their wifi was a bit of a struggle and the internet connection was slower than she’d remembered - but eventually she was able to look up the number to _Le Pain Loup_.

It was still far too early in Val Royeaux for the bakery to be open. Still, she picked up the landline phone in her room with some small amount of hope. He might have a voicemail service attached to the number where she could leave a message.

After the tenth ring, she hung up with a sigh, running her hand roughly down her face.

_So much for that idea._

Isii kicked off her shoes, slipping out of her jeans before crawling into bed. She’d take a short nap and hopefully be awake by the time Solas got into work.Then she could call him and clear up this mess.  

***

Solas took a slow and heavy breath, consciousness coming gradually as he stretched his limbs. He opened his eyes, groggily blinking back sleep before glancing at his phone with a frown.

The sun was up. Isii should have called by now.

The thought gained clarity as he plucked the device from his nightstand, thinking that perhaps the ringer was off.

But no. She simply hadn’t called.

He set the phone down, a slow sense of dread settling in his stomach.

He told himself it was irrational. She was fine. She was busy. She’d simply forgotten about him.

That thought stung, somewhat. Especially after the kiss.

Solas pinched the bridge of his nose, silently chastising himself. It was nothing. Simply a careless mistake. An act of forgetfulness. He shouldn’t read anything into it.

There was still time before his alarm would go off, but sleep eluded him as he closed his eyes once more. He couldn’t help but run through the various scenarios that would explain her lack of contact, from the mundane to the morbid. Her phone had run down it’s battery. Her flight was delayed due to poor weather. Her plane had crashed into the jagged rocks of the Vimmark Mountains, unseen by her pilots in the darkness.

His eyes opened again and he pushed himself out of bed, shuffling into his office. He checked the news as he always did as part of his morning routine, though his eyes took careful note of the lack of headlines about terrible aeronautic disasters. That, at least, served as a comfort.

It wasn’t until after he’d showered and dressed that he looked at his phone again, swiping the screen until he found her number. If all had gone according to plan, she should have landed hours ago. It was more than acceptable for him to call her now, just to check in.

It went straight to voicemail.

“Isii,” he started, somewhat startled by the sudden beep that indicated he was being recorded. “I..” He paused, clearing his throat. “It’s Solas. I hope your travels are treating you well.” He hesitated again, uncertain what to say as he shifted the phone against his ear. “Please call me at the soonest convenience.”

He ended the call, his brow furrowing as he stared down at the image of her on his screen before it disappeared, taking him back to his keypad.

Everything was fine.

He was certain it was fine.

She’d simply forgotten about him.

***

Isii groaned at the knock on her door, groggily pressing her face into her pillow before opening her eyes. It took her a second to get her bearings, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings as the knock came again. “Come in,” she croaked.

“The door is locked,” she heard Deshanna call from the other side.

Isii yawned as she crawled off of the bed, stumbling half-awake into her jeans as she made her way to the door, pulling it open. “Sorry. City habits,” she apologized groggily. “What time is it?” she asked, running her fingers through the hairs that had fallen from her mussed braid.

“Nearly two thirty.”

“Shit,” Isii cursed, rubbing her brow. “I’ve got to make a phone call-”

“There’s no time for that,” her Keeper answered. “Alya is already waiting for your fitting.”

“Fitting?”

Her Keeper peered at her expectantly, her brows lifting. “Your dress for the Conference?”

Isii groaned. “Do we have to do that right now?” The look on her Keeper’s face didn’t budge. “Alright, alright. The call will only take a second.”

“You shouldn’t keep her waiting,” Deshanna said firmly, shaking her head. “She has other tasks to attend to afterwards. There’s a lot of work to be done to prepare for the party tonight.”

“Party?” Isii asked, frowning. “What party?”

Deshanna’s head tilted. “For our guest of honor. Clan Alasan’s representative should arrive soon. We intend to give him a warm welcome. Besides,” she added dryly, “it only made sense to mark one of the rare instances when our First will grace us with her presence.”

Isii clenched her teeth but decided against arguing.

“Alright,” she said, nodding as she followed her Keeper outside, leaving her shoes behind. “Lead the way.”

Deshanna moved briskly, strolling along the dirt path as Isii stifled another yawn, suddenly yearning for the coffee Karis had offered earlier. The clan was awake and active now, those who lingered within sight exchanging more than a few smiles and waves as Isii passed by. There was no time to socialize, however, as she matched her Keeper’s steps. The shouts of children echoed from the schoolyard as they passed, a very tired-looking Kellina trying to corral the students in from recess.

“I thought Kell was still finishing up her degree,” Isii commented.

“She is,” Deshanna answered curtly. “She decided to fulfill her required classroom experience here while she prepares for final exams. Unlike some, she was eager to start using her education to give back to her clan right away.”

Isii let out a tight breath. She was expecting some level of grief from Deshanna, but it would have been nice if she could have at least waited a full day before passive-aggressively poking at old wounds. The fact that Isii hadn’t returned to her clan the second she graduated had been a sore spot between them for some time now. Isii really wasn’t in the mood to fight about it now.

Alya’s workshop was a cozy space, nestled into what would otherwise be her family’s living room. Though she shared it with her parents, she’d clearly given it her own personal touch - string lights nestled in among faded fabrics, the walls decorated with pinned-up inspiration, pages torn from magazines showing fashions that were well-beyond the sort they normally made here. There was an orderly chaos about the room, tables littered with half-finished products, jewelry and clothing crafted to be sold to shemlen who sought the artistry of handmade wares. The exotification of the elven had at least one perk. There were some who would pay a decent wage for authentic Dalish goods.

Alya and Ell’ahnaa were waiting for her inside, both greeting Isii with warm hugs and excited chatter as she was swept further into the room. “Oh Gods, I hope it fits,” Alya said with a laugh, moving excitedly over to her dress stand as she worked the zipper loose. “The embroidery and beading isn’t finished. I’ve got some sketches so you can get an idea of what it should look like when I’m done.”

Isii smiled as she looked over the dress. Even with its raw hem and chalk-lined guides for unfinished embroidery, it was incredibly beautiful. A sheer georgette in brown stretched across the shoulders and deep-cut open back, suspending an array of golden-threaded leaves and branches, creating the illusion that they were hovering over bared skin. The design slunk further down over the sweetheart neckline, the bulk of the floor-length gown made in layers of deep emerald, offsetting the images of halla among forested trees that lined the full skirt.

“Alya, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” Isii said.

The woman smiled, beaming with pride. “I tried my best to make it as traditional as possible while also being fashionable for Orlesian standards. At least, what I _think_ Orlesian standards are right now…”

It took some work to slip into the dress, Ell’ahnaa helping her as she stood behind a privacy screen, trying carefully to avoid getting poked with pins. Deshanna watched with an appraising eye, arms crossed over her chest as Isii stepped out from behind the screen, carefully lifting the front of the skirt to avoid stepping on it. Alya began inspecting the fit, her lips pursed as she pinched at the side seams.

“Hmm. I think I’ll have to take it in at the waist a bit,” she said, frowning as she knelt down with her pincushion. “Creators, I hope I didn’t mess up the measurements you sent me.”

“Honestly, it’s probably due to post-grad malnutrition than anything else,” Isii said with a small laugh. “Rent in Val Royeaux isn’t cheap. That plus student loans...sometimes the food budget gets a little tight.”

“I can imagine,” Alya murmured distractedly, tucking and pinning the fabric as she marked the needed alterations. “I’ve been scholarship hunting myself. Browsing a few colleges online. I don’t know how I’ll be able to afford it, but I really want to go.”

Deshanna hummed thoughtfully, frowning as she studied Isii’s appearance. “One of you do her makeup,” she muttered. “And do something with her hair.”

Isii’s brow furrowed.“Is that really necessary?”

“I want to have a sense of what the complete look will be,” Deshanna said firmly.

“Aren’t we going to be wearing masks anyway?”

Her Keeper shook her head. “We will not hide our vallaslin to placate the shemlen.” She turned then, taking a few quick steps. “Have her ready by the time I return.”

The door shut heavily behind the Keeper. Isii arched her brow. “Okay… real talk,” she began cautiously. “Is Deshanna acting especially weird today or is it just me?”

“She’s been a bit on edge lately,” Alya said delicately. “Apparently Karis has overheard a lot of angry phone calls with the other Keepers. She’s not really sure what it’s all about, other than it has something to do with the Conference.”

Isii let out a tense breath. “Deshanna told me there’s been some disagreements about the demands we’re making in our proposal, but she’s totally downplayed it as a minor thing to me.”

“Honestly I think she’s just worried about the dude from Clan Alasan,” Ell said with a shrug. “She seems pretty determined to make this guy happy. Hey, Alya, mind dragging out some of your makeup? It should work with Isii’s coloring.”

Alya nodded, pushing herself up from her knees before shuffling down the hallway. Ell put an arm around Isii’s shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you ready in a flash. And Deshanna should chill out in a day or two.” She grinned, lowering her voice. “And hey, if you need to de-stress from all the bullshit, I’m more than happy to smoke you out. We can hole up for a night with a bunch of elfroot and a string of shitty movies, just like old times.”

Isii chuckled, shaking her head. “With how this trip is going so far, I’ll probably take you up on the offer.”

***

“What gives?”

Solas glanced up distractedly as Sera frowned at him from across the room. “Pardon?”

“That’s gotta be like the millionth time you’ve checked your phone today,” she complained before smirking. “What? Got some kinda lover’s quarrel goin’ down?”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket with a sharp breath, returning to his task of wiping down the tables. “It is nothing that concerns you,” he said curtly.

“Oooooh, someone’s got it sour today,” she teased.

“Leave it alone, Sera,” he muttered. “I am in no mood.”

Solas had tried calling Isii twice since he arrived at the shop. The fact that her phone didn’t appear to be on did little to soothe his concerns.

When he heard the familiar chirp of his phone receiving a new message, he was quick to retrieve the device.

“Fixed your ringer, I see,” Sera snickered. “I liked it better the other way.”

“No one asked you,” he muttered, his hopes dropping as he saw who the text was from. He opened it with a sigh.

**_[B]: Mission accomplished. Have one of your people meet me tonight. I have something that may be of interest._ **

He replied with a simple confirmation before returning his cell to his pocket.

***

Isii studied herself in the mirror, careful to keep her head steady as Alya finished braiding her hair. “Damn, Ell,” she said, chuckling. “You’re a heck of a lot better at winged eyeliner than I am. Mine usually looks like an uneven mess.”

“Hopefully your makeup game is better than when you were sixteen,” Ell’ahnaa said with a laugh. “You looked like a fucking raccoon.”

Isii’s eyes narrowed, glaring at her friend. “It was a phase.”

Alya pinned the braid in place, loosely running her fingers through the curls that fell along Isii’s neck. “Alright. That should placate Deshanna,” she said. “We’re planning on having a headpiece for the day of the event, but it isn’t finished yet. This will have to do.” Alya smiled as she looked into the mirror. “You’re going to look awesome at the Conference. If I do say so myself,” she added gleefully.

“The shems won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Isii echoed half-heartedly, looking at her reflection. It was a beautiful dress. She was grateful for it. But the thought of diving head-first into Orlesian politics still left her feeling sorely out of place. The Orlesians were obsessed with appearances. First impressions would mean everything in the Grand Game. And their opinion of elves had always been dismissive at best. She smoothed her hands over the skirt, taking a deep breath. This would be her armor. She would hold her head high and present herself like a damned Dalish queen if that’s what it took for the shemlen to take her seriously.

The knock on the door was a mere formality, Deshanna pushing her way past the entrance a moment later, a broad smile on her face. Behind her trailed a young man who Isii did not recognize. He was tall with a lean frame, his sun-kissed skin marked with lines of darkened rust, matching the deep auburn of his short-cropped hair. The tip of his right ear was missing, a faint line of scars trailing from his brow and onto his cheek. They didn’t detract from the handsomeness of his features, however - a strong jawline with a long, straight nose, his more angular features softened by a set of full lips. Andruil’s vallaslin made his expression seem rather grim as he entered the room, though its severity eased somewhat as he spotted Isii, his brows lifting as his body stilled, eyes of deep amber trailing down her form.

“My apologies,” Deshanna said warmly to the stranger. “We were finishing up a fitting for some of our Conference attire. This is Alya and Ell’ahnaa. And this is my First, Isi’i’vhenana, who will be our primary representative for the event.”

From the look on the young man’s face, Isii could see precisely why Deshanna had insisted on getting her dolled up. Rather than having her jet-lagged and mussed from her nap, her Keeper wanted her to look the part of honeyed bait. She forced a smile over her clenched teeth, offering her hand. “Please, call me Isii,” she said, consciously trying to soften her tone as he accepted the gesture, taking her hand.

“Virassan,” he answered with a nod.

“I take it you’re our guest from Clan Alasan?”

“One and the same,” he said flatly.

“Aneth ara, lethallin,” she greeted sweetly.

“Why don’t you hurry and get changed, da’len,” Deshanna said, her smile stretched tightly. “I’m certain our guest would like a tour of our territory. Help familiarize him with the accommodations for his stay.”

Isii’s eyes met her Keeper’s, her expression not faltering even as she seethed slightly at the blatant manipulation. “Of course,” she agreed.

If this was what Deshanna wanted, she would play along. She would be the pretty little First and charm their guest.

It was, after all, for the betterment of the clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Andaran atish’an - A formal greeting. “Enter this place in peace.”  
> De da’rahn - It’s a little thing. No problem.   
> Aneth ara, lethallin - A sociable greeting commonly used between Dalish elves. Lethallin denotes kinship.
> 
> Cameos:  
> This chapter features characters that were graciously donated by their creators.  
> Karis - [Warsonghold](http://warsonghold.tumblr.com/)  
> Athras - [Mocha](http://inquisilicious.tumblr.com/)  
> Kellina - [Kellinahasaship](http://kellinahasaship.tumblr.com/)  
> Alya - [Adjectivebear](http://adjectivebear.tumblr.com/)  
> Ell'ahnaa - [Fleschybits](http://fleschybits.tumblr.com/)


	20. A Dalish Welcome

Isii sat on the hood of her parked rental car, feet curled beneath her as she gazed out over the ridge. This spot was a familiar one - a fitting end for the tour of their territory as it presented a spectacular view of her home. Clan Lavellan sprawled out beneath them, tucked among the trees, the lush forest stretching out into the horizon. She’d been here many times when she was young. It was a popular spot for Lavellan’s teens to seek some privacy away from the prying eyes of their elders.

Virassan took a seat beside her, though his gaze didn’t seem as focused on the view.

“So, what do you think?” Isii asked.

“You have a very beautiful home,” he replied politely. “I take it you’ve been settled here a long time?”

“Since I was twelve,” Isii said with a nod. “We’ve been lucky. The woods offer us privacy. And the locals seem content to let us stay here, as long as we continue to trade with them.”

His head tilted curiously. “I was told that you live in Val Royeaux.”

“I moved there to go to college,” she said. “The university has a very advanced program for Pre-Andrastian Elvhen studies.”

His expression soured. “I can’t imagine staying there. Living like a common flat ear among the shemlen.”

“Actually, I quite like it,” she admitted with a shrug. “It took some getting used to, at first. There are those who still treat me like an outsider, but I’ve also met a lot of good people who made me feel welcome. The city elves may not keep to the old ways, but they’re not so different from us. They’re just people trying to figure out what it means to be an elf in a world dominated by humans.” Her gaze fell, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I’d like to think that one day, the elves might be united again. With a common sense of identity. No matter what our religious or cultural differences may be, we all share the same blood.”

Virassan said nothing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. She pursed her lips in the awkward silence. “There are other things too. Things to experience in the city that you can’t find here. All sorts of foods from around the world, free concerts in the park, museums…”

“Museums are just big buildings where the shems can show off all the things they’ve stolen from the People over the centuries,” he muttered bitterly.

“That’s one perspective,” Isii said delicately. “But I would see those artifacts displayed and admired rather than having them dismissed and destroyed. It’s certainly not perfect, but it’s not as bad as it seems from the outside. There’s a lot we can learn from what they’ve preserved.”

Virassan gave an unimpressed hum, rubbing absentmindedly at his cut ear. “If you say so.”

Isii studied him curiously for a moment. His attitude was not so unusual for a Dalish elf who had never lived on the outside. Alasan had a reputation for being more traditional in terms of their isolation from the human world. To him, Lavellan probably seemed like a group of liberalists.

She supposed her little speech wasn’t doing much to change that.

“Can I ask what happened?” she pressed cautiously. “To your ear, I mean?” Isii saw his brow tighten and she shook her head. “Sorry. I know that’s a very personal question-”

“It’s fine,” he said dryly, shrugging. “I figured you would ask eventually. Most people do.” He took a slow breath, his gaze distant while he spoke. “A few years ago… there was this group of drunken shemlen who decided to go joyriding through our territory. It happens, from time to time. The Orlesians in the Dales don’t care much for our presence there and they know they can get away with anything they do on our lands scot-free.

“There was this girl that they spotted. Started following her, harassing her. She was young. Still a few years from getting her blood writing. She ignored them at first, until one of them got out and tried to pull her into their car. I didn’t know what was happening until I heard the screaming and ran to help. In the struggle, one of the men smashed a beer bottle and swung at me. Scarred up my face and took most of my ear clean off. By that point, others had heard and when they saw more elves coming to our defense, the humans got spooked and took off.”

“I’m sorry,” Isii said softly.

“I’m not,” Virassan said, shaking his head. “I wasn’t going to stand there and do nothing.”

“Still, that should never have happened to you. Or to that girl.” She paused then, choosing her words carefully. “Instances like that… it’s one of the reasons I think our involvement with the Conference is so important.” His eyes met hers warily as she continued. “The Dalish have no rights under human law. They can do whatever they like to us without facing any punishment. But if we can get recognition as a unified group - if we have nationhood and a voice in shaping shemlen laws - then we can better protect ourselves. We can secure our territories. Have permanent homes and live without the threat of being driven away. We can keep our traditions without our mages living in fear of Templar raids. Our ancestor’s goals were to preserve the old ways. To wait until they could establish a new elven nation after the fall of Halamshiral. Isn’t it time we try to make that a reality?” Isii’s gaze fell to her lap, her fingers smoothing absentmindedly over her legs. “It won’t happen overnight. I don’t expect it to. But someone has to take the first step.”

A silence fell between them as Virassan looked at her, his expression softening somewhat. “You’re clearly passionate about our people’s future.” A smile pulled at his lips - the first genuine one she’d seen from him so far. “I can admire that.”

***

Isii chewed on her lip as she waited, the electronic ringing suddenly cut off by his voice.

“This is Le Pain Loup bakery, how may I-”

“Solas! Creators, I am so, _so_ sorry.”

She heard him pause, his tone slipping from the automatic recitation of his greeting, hushed as he continued. “Isii? Is everything alright? I expected you to call my cell-”

“I lost my phone,” she explained, wincing as she sat down on the edge of her bed. “And I couldn’t remember your number. I would have called the shop earlier, but my Keeper has been keeping me busy.”

“It’s alright,” he soothed and she couldn’t help but smile at the warmth in his tone. “I’m just relieved to hear your voice.”

She laid back against the bed, her brow lifting. “I’m really sorry if I worried you.”

“I’ll admit, I’ve found myself… preoccupied, wondering why I could not reach you. It has been difficult for me to focus on much else today. As strange as that may seem.”

She toyed with the phone’s cord, her smile widening as she coiled it around her finger. “Well I guess it’s good to know I’ve been on your mind.”

“As always.”

She pursed her lips shyly, her cheeks growing warm. “I can’t talk long. I’m supposed to be getting ready for some party they’re throwing tonight. We’ve got this guy visiting from another clan and my Keeper will bite my head off if I leave him alone for too long.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice softened with amusement. “Are you to keep him entertained?”

Isii chuckled. “Jealous, baker?”

“He gets to spend his time in your company when I cannot,” Solas said smoothly. “That alone is worthy of my envy.”

“He _is_ very handsome,” she murmured playfully.

“Then accompanying him shouldn’t be much of a chore for you.”

“He seems nice enough,” she purred into the phone. “Younger than me, though. I tend to prefer older men, myself.”

She giggled as she heard him awkwardly clear his throat. “Then I suppose I should count that in my favor.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, her toes curling against the bedsheets. “I guess I should probably let you get back to work.”

“Probably.”

“Can I get your cell number again?” she asked, reaching to her nightstand for a scrap of paper and a pen. She jotted down the number as he recited it, repeating it back to make certain she’d written it correctly. “Awesome. Thanks. I promise I’ll try to call you later, when I have more time. Though with long distance charges, it may not be all that often.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll try in a day or two to get to the nearest shop for my wireless provider. See if I can get a replacement phone.” A light knock on her door caused her to lift her head, muffling a curse. “I’ve got to go. Sorry.”

“Dar’eth. I look forward to hearing from you again, whenever that may be.”

Her eyes closed briefly, saying a reluctant goodbye before she hung up. Deshanna opened the door just as the receiver hit the cradle, poking her head inside. “Are you ready?”

Isii rose from the bed, stepping quickly to her suitcase. “Sorry, not yet. I still have finish getting dressed.” It seemed silly to change clothing again. It wasn’t as if she’d packed proper clothes for a party - and nothing that was quintessentially Dalish in appearance. But parties among her clan were generally big affairs, with music and dancing and celebration. It was being held in Virassan’s honor and she was supposed to impress him. Jeans and a t-shirt probably weren’t going to suffice.

She’d already pulled on a black, form-fitting slip. Now, she retrieved the sundress that she’d pair with it - stretchy, dark red lace with a flared skirt and three-quarter sleeves. It was cute but also fairly modest. Definitely first-date material.

Not that this was a date.

Deshanna closed the door behind her as Isii shimmied into the dress. “How was your afternoon with our guest?”

“Fine. We got a chance to talk some things out,” she said, straightening her skirt before reaching for her suitcase, pulling out a small bag of jewelry. She took a seat at the desk, rummaging through it. “He was reluctant to tell me why Alasan wants to pull their support, other than briefly mentioning that they’ve never been fond of the idea of involving ourselves with shemlen politics. Not surprising for traditionalists. But I think I’ve at least gotten him to understand what our goals are.”

Her Keeper watched her steadily as she began to secure her earrings. “And what do you think of him, personally?”

Isii shrugged. “A bit on the quiet side, I guess. But friendly, once you get him talking. I think I’ll have him warmed over to our side eventually.”

“Did he mention he was unbonded?”

Isii’s fingers stilled against her ear for a moment. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“He is an attractive young man…”

“Key word being _young_ ,” Isii stressed.

“Only younger than you by a few years,” Deshanna pushed, her arms crossing against her chest. “It’s not exactly common to find someone your age who has not yet found a bondmate.” Isii’s jaw tensed. “He would make a good match for you, I think,” Deshanna continued. “And it would act as a bridge to unify our clans. We don’t have any close ties to Alasan.”

Isii turned in her chair to face her, her eyes narrowing. “Gods, what century do you think this is, Deshanna?” she snapped. “I’m not some chattel that you can use as a bargaining chip with other clans.”

“I’m under no impression that you would accept an arranged marriage, da’len,” Deshanna replied calmly. “That’s not what I’m proposing. But you are getting older. I have presented you with other candidates in the past and you’ve offered nothing but resistance.”

“Maybe because I want you to stop pushing me into bonding,” Isii said, her voice lifting. “I’m sorry I’m not Karis, getting shacked up and pregnant the second I’m old enough to.”

“You need to start thinking about your future, Isii,” Deshanna said sternly. “You are a mage. It’s important to keep your bloodline going for the sake of our people.”

Isii straightened in her chair once more with a sharp huff. “Well, I’m not exactly looking to get knocked up any time soon,” she muttered bitterly. “Sorry for being such a disappointment.”

She heard Deshanna let out a slow, tense breath before her footsteps crossed the room, her hands smoothing gently against Isii’s shoulders. “I am not disappointed in you, da’len,” she murmured. “You’ve grown into a beautiful, wonderful young woman.” Her hands squeezed tightly. “Your parents would be so proud of you, if they could see what you've become.”

Isii’s eyes closed, her chin dropping as her Keeper spoke. “I am just trying to provide for you as best I can. As I have, all these years. In the end, it’s not about marriage. If you truly wish to stay unbonded, I would not force you into anything. I just want you to be happy.”

Isii nodded solemnly as her Keeper withdrew. Deshanna paused by the door, momentarily glancing back to her. “All I ask is that you think about it. Don’t reject him merely because I’m the one suggesting you may have a future with him.”

She closed the door behind her then, leaving Isii alone with her thoughts.

***

“He ordered a _whole case_ of my love potions,” Ella said with a laugh. “Twenty bottles! Can you imagine? I don’t think the idiot has figured out that they’re nothing but elfroot and hibiscus.”

Isii joined in as the group chuckled. They loitered on the outskirts of the gathering, mingling, the open air filled with a joyous tune as the band played. She was surrounded by familiar faces - Kellina, Senna, Ella, Revas, Per’nah. People she hadn’t spoken to in years beyond brief phone calls and emails and yet, here they were, laughing over drinks. It felt almost strange, how easily she slipped back into her circle of friends. So much had changed, and yet they were all happy to see her, engaging in idle chatter as if her absence had never happened.

“The shems will buy anything if you slap an elven label on it,” Per’nah quipped. “It somehow makes it sound more _authentic_.”

“Creators bless the hipsters,” Revas giggled. “Did you know, I had some shem send me an email the other day, asking if our halla cheese was vegan?” Her face screwed up tightly, perplexed. “I just sat there for a full ten minutes, dumbfounded.”

Hanon approached as the women laughed, loitering shyly around the edge of their group as he chewed his lip, nervously smiling at Kellina. The poor man seemed hopeless to get her attention until Per’nah gave her a nudge, and when their eyes met he could offer little more than stammers. “Oh hey, Kell… um…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze falling to her hand. “Your glass is empty.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Can I have it?”

Her brow arched. “You want my glass?”

“I mean… to refill it. Can I get you another drink? If you want one, that is.”

She stared at him a moment, her lips pursed to hold back a laugh. “Alright, sure,” she murmured, handing over the cup. He kept his eyes down as he took it, mentally kicking himself as he walked away.

“I see Hanon is as smooth as ever,” Isii giggled once he was out of earshot.

“He’s such a dork,” Kell said affectionately, grinning.

Isii’s eyes shifted to follow the squeal of children chasing each other through the open field, quickly chastised by some of the adults as they ran too close to one of the bonfires. The night sky glimmered above them, clear and cloudless, the scent of smoke and grilling meat filling the air. It was so unlike the parties she’d attended in Val Royeaux. In the city, they crammed themselves into houses or rented rooms, music blaring loudly over speakers, discouraging conversation in favor of dancing. Food was uncommon, relegated to small snacks - barely enough to keep up with the constant flow of alcohol. Here, they always celebrated outdoors. Bare feet to the earth, open sky above. The elders busied themselves with cooking, offering a feast no matter how meager their resources were.

She jumped as she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind, turning curiously in the hug before her lips parted in a broad smile. “Mel!” Isii returned the embrace eagerly, face buried briefly in dark curls as her friend giggled. “Gods, I haven’t heard from you in forever! How are you?”

“Good! Karis told me you were visiting. I happened to be in Wycome at the time, so I thought I would stop by.”

It was only then that Isii noticed the tension in the group; Ella, in particular, her eyes narrowing into a glare over the rim of her glass before she wordlessly turned and left. Isii frowned, confused as Per’nah gave Melowyn an apologetic smile. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just pissy about how you left the clan. She’ll get over it.”

“Wait, what?” Isii asked, staring back at Mel for an explanation. “You left Lavellan? Like, permanently?”

“Technically, I guess.” Melowyn’s grin was tinged with disappointment as she shrugged. “Sorta what happens when you’re kicked out.” Isii’s brow furrowed in concern but Mel waved it off. “It’s fine. I’m here right now, aren’t I? I mean… half the people here won’t talk to me, but it’s not like Deshanna has barred me from visiting.”

“What happened?”

“She wasn’t exactly pleased with rumors that I was sleeping around with every outsider I could get my hands on when I went into the city to trade,” she said dryly, rolling her eyes. “There were a few, yeah. I’m not ashamed of them, so I wasn’t about to deny that. In the end, she gave me an ultimatum. Settle down and bond with a clanmate, or leave. So I left.”

“You had every right to,” Revas reassured her.

“I know,” Mel said with a sad smile. “I really didn’t want things to end like that, though. Getting kicked out wasn’t exactly on my bucket list.”

“You should talk to Deshanna,” Senna pressed. “I'm sure she was just angry. It's not like you hurt anyone. She'd let you come back…”

Mel shook her head. “I'll be fine. I’ve got a place to stay and some friends on the outside. I mean, yeah, it hurts knowing that I'm not really welcome here, but I knew what I was getting into when I chose to leave. I'm happy on the outside.”

“It's really not as bad off-territory as everyone thinks,” Kell admitted. “Though I wouldn't choose to stay there. I got really sick of the prejudiced assholes who gave me grief when I was at university. Not just shems, either. Sometimes the city elves were even worse. Some people just flat out hate the Dalish. I can't imagine leaving for good.”

“Ella will be next to go if she's not careful,” Per'nah muttered into her drink.

“Those are just rumors,” Revas chided. “We don't know if they're true.”

“What rumors?” Isii asked.

Per'nah gave a brief, conspiratorial glance around them before lowering her voice. “Word is that Ella's trips into the city haven't all been business-related. Apparently she has a shem lover she's seeing in secret.”

“Honestly, I think it's just idle gossip,” Senna muttered. “You know how everyone here loves a good scandal. Ella's even more of a hardline traditionalist than Deshanna. No way she would be caught with a shem.”

“Ma'ven said she saw them, once. Things looked a little more than friendly,” Per’nah said, her brow arching. “All I’ll say is that Ella’s not touching any of the booze here. No one thinks that’s a little odd?”

“I wouldn't jump to any conclusions,” Isii said cautiously, eyeing Virassan as he approached, abruptly ending the conversation. She offered him a smile as he handed her a glass.

“Thought you might like another drink.”

“You read my mind,” she said with a grin as she happily took the replacement. “Enjoying the party?”

“Very festive,” he said, the corner of his lips lifting as he took another sip. “I can’t complain.”

Kell frowned as she glanced over her shoulder. “He managed to bring you a drink. Meanwhile, I think Hanon got lost.”

Isii was still introducing Virassan to the group as Aisha walked up, her baby squirming on her hip as Mel cooed, her hands on her cheeks. She ran her fingers over the thin tuft of blonde hair, the little boy gurgling in response. “He’s so cute,” she sighed. “You look so much like your mamae.”

“He gets that a lot,” Aisha chuckled before pecking Revas on the cheek. “I think I’m going to call it a night, vhenan,” she murmured. “Varlas is getting fussy from all the excitement.”

“I’ll join you in a bit,” Revas said warmly, kissing their son on the head.

“Isii!” She turned to the sound of Karis’s voice, the woman walking up to her excitedly, hand in hand with a much taller man.

Isii grinned, putting her hand forward. “I take it you’re the new husband I’m supposed to meet?”

“Guilty as charged,” Athras said, smiling warmly as he took her hand. Isii didn’t know what she’d expected exactly, though she was surprised to see a man much closer to her own age than his young wife’s. “Karis has told me a lot about you.”

“Hopefully good things,” Isii said with a laugh.

“You work at the University of Orlais. Do you teach?”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Just a researcher. I specialize in Pre-Andrastian elvhen artifacts.”

“That must be fascinating work.”

“I certainly enjoy it.” Her eyes lowered to Karis’s swollen belly. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he replied politely as they both beamed.

“Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” Virassan asked.

Isii saw Athras’s hand tightening around Karis’s as she grinned up at him. “We’re happy with anything, as long as the baby is healthy,” she said, her other hand resting on her stomach. “Either would be a blessing. If he’s a boy, we’re thinking of calling him Adahlen or Enansal.”

“Or Mahanon.”

Karis made a face. “No. I already vetoed that. Along with Ellana.” He frowned, but it did little to dampen his smile as his wife continued. “If she’s a girl, I want to name her Raena.”

“All beautiful names,” Isii said. “Even the rejects,” she added with a wink to Athras, who chuckled.

“Senna.” The elven woman turned as Elris approached her from behind, grinning. “Dance with me?”

Senna accepted with a smile as Athras pulled Karis closer, murmuring in her ear. “Sounds like a wonderful idea,” he said as she giggled, apologizing to Isii as she let herself be led away.

Virassan cleared his throat, Isii’s stomach tightening as he smiled. “Would you like to dance?”

She pushed a grin onto her lips, hiding hesitation as she nodded, taking his outstretched hand. She didn’t miss the enthusiastic thumbs-up from Kellina as he pulled her away from the group, further out into the clearing where the dancers gathered.

Their bodies fell in time to the slow rhythm, swaying as his arms encircled her, easing her closer. There was an odd flutter in her chest that she couldn’t quite place as Virassan’s hand smoothed over the small of her back, golden eyes searching her own. He danced well, guiding her effortlessly, and as she heard Karis’s laughter, as she saw how her husband murmured lovingly in her ear, breathless joy on her lips as he spun her - Isii couldn’t help but think that maybe this wasn’t so bad. Being in the arms of an attractive man, one who now looked at her with obvious desire. She found herself pulling him to her, her hand cradling the nape of his neck as his slid down to her hips. Perhaps this wasn’t such a terrible idea. She’d have to return to her clan eventually. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be alone when that day came. She had to think about her future. And maybe Virassan wouldn’t be the man who fit into that… but she shouldn’t completely deny him as an option. Her Keeper had suggested him for a reason. Deshanna wouldn’t want her to bond with just anyone.

That flutter crept lower, coiling into a heavy weight as she thought about Solas. How she wished he was there. How she wished he would hold her like this. How just the sound of his voice has made her heart skip a beat only hours before. She couldn’t share this life with him. Not unless he left everything behind and converted for her sake. It was just a crush. A deeply-rooted infatuation, fed only by the fact that it was all so new. Chances were, things with Solas would go just like every other relationship she’d ever had. Once they got out of the honeymoon phase, then they’d just drift apart. He’d stay in his bakery and she would go back to the Marches and that would be that.

And yet just the thought of it made her miss him even more, strangely mourning the loss of a relationship that hadn’t even really begun.

“Everything alright?”

Isii looked up with a sharp breath as Virassan smiled, his brows lifting curiously. “Sorry,” she apologized with a small laugh.

“You looked about a thousand miles away for a second there,” he murmured, hands giving a testing squeeze against her hips. “Am I not keeping your attention?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Sorry. It’s not you. I’m just tired, I guess. It’s been a long day for me.”

“Do you want to turn in for the night?” he asked softly. “I could walk you to your room.”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah. That would be nice.” She paused then, running her thumb along the back of his neck. “Once this song is over.”

His smile widened. “I think I can manage that.”

***

They walked at a slow pace, the sound of the gathering fading into the distance as they talked. The moon shone brightly overhead, providing more than enough light to guide their way. Virassan’s hands stayed in his pockets as he kept a respectful distance.

“Your clan seems like a nice place to live,” he murmured, smiling. “Your clanmates seem to have nothing but good things to say about you.”

“You were asking around?” she asked, her brow arching.

He chuckled. “Didn’t have to. Everyone seemed pretty eager to offer that information all on their own.”

“Ah.” Did everyone know that Deshanna planned to make a match between them? It would explain some of the looks she got this evening whenever Virassan was nearby.

“They all seem to miss you while you’re away.”

“It’s good to be home,” she said, forcing a smile. “Even if it’s only for a visit.”

“How much longer do you plan on staying in Orlais?” he asked casually.

“I’m not sure.”

“Til after the Conference, I’d imagine,” he mused. “If all goes well, they’ll probably want you back here. Assuming you’re as important to the cause as Deshanna made you out to be.” He grinned. “She’s probably looking forward to retirement.”

Isii laughed nervously.

“Keeper Senthel retired last year,” he continued. “Though admittedly his idea of retirement is never knowing what to do with his free time and spending it pestering his former First.”

“Yeah,” Isii said with a tight laugh. “Deshanna will probably be the same way.”

“I assume your Keeper has told you what her intentions are for us?”

Isii paused, her brow furrowing. “Meaning?”

“I wasn’t just sent here for the sake of clan politics, Isii,” Virassan said, offering her a glance. “My Keeper didn’t choose me. Deshanna requested my presence, specifically. Apparently she thinks we would make a good match for one another.”

“Oh,” she muttered, swallowing the awkward tension in her throat. “Yeah, she… mentioned that.” Fingertips worried over one of her curls as she pursed her lips. “I didn’t realize she was that blatant about it with you, though.”

He laughed warmly. “I’ll admit, I was reluctant at first. I didn’t think you would be so…” He hesitated, thinking. “No offense, but I didn’t think you would be so charming. Not to mention beautiful.” Isii felt her cheeks flaring with heat as he continued. “A woman your age without a spouse… I assumed there had to be some reason that would make you undesirable.” He cringed, giving her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I know that makes me sound like a shallow prick.”

“No, I understand,” she murmured quietly.

“Is there a reason you’re still unbonded?” he asked, his head tilting. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

She walked up to her door, lingering as she turned to face him. “I guess I just never met anyone that I felt that way about.”

He smiled softly. “Sounds familiar.”

An awkward silence fell.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” she said.

“I look forward to it.”

She paused, searching his face in the silence before reaching for the door handle. She felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder, her name murmured before he turned her, back pressed to the door as his lips met her own. Isii let out a small, surprised whimper as his fingers slipped through strands of her hair, holding her head steady as his mouth slated over hers. Virassan moved closer, his other hand splayed across the small of her back, forcing her to arch into him. This was everything that Solas’s kiss hadn’t been - a hot and hard press, cautious only for a moment before his tongue delved past her lips, flicking with a low, breathy moan. She gripped his shoulders, her body tense as he pulled away, lingering close as his hold loosened.

“Sleep well, Isi’i’vhenana.”

She swallowed hard, trying to regain her balance as he let go of her. “You too,” she said, her voice a little more breathless than she’d intended. A smirk peeled across his lips as she turned the doorknob, quickly passing into her room.

She shut the door with the press of her back, pausing to steady her breaths as her eyes widened.

_What in the Void was that?_

Her heart was still pounding from the sudden shock as she flopped down onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. Apparently Virassan had every intention of pursuing her. And with his clan’s support at stake, she didn’t know if she could deny him outright.

She glanced over to her nightstand, Solas’s phone number still laying there, scrawled on a slip of torn paper.

Isii groaned, burying her face in a pillow.

_Fenedhis._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Dar’eth - goodbye. Go in peace.  
> Fenedhis - a common Dalish curse.
> 
>  
> 
> Cameos:  
> I know I threw a lot of new names at you guys in this chapter! Many thanks to these OC's creators for letting me borrow them to populate Isii's clan!  
> Karis - [Warsonghold](http://warsonghold.tumblr.com/)  
> Athras - [Mocha](http://inquisilicious.tumblr.com/)  
> Kellina - [Kellinahasaship](http://kellinahasaship.tumblr.com/)  
> Ella and Hanon - [Of-elves-and-wolves](http://of-elves-and-wolves.tumblr.com/)  
> Per'nah - [Lunafeather](http://lunafeather.tumblr.com/)  
> Senna and Elris - [Pridetothefall](http://pridetothefall.tumblr.com/)  
> Revas - [Dammit--Solas](http://dammit--solas.tumblr.com/)  
> Aisha - [Right-in-the-vhenan](http://right-in-the-vhenan.tumblr.com/)  
> Melowyn - [Awesomonster](http://awesomonster.tumblr.com/)  
> Ma'ven - [Irrewilderer](http://irrewilderer.tumblr.com/)


	21. Dream Date

The next morning came at a leisurely pace, the party having stretched on well into the night. Isii made her way into the tuatharla - a commonhouse that laid in the very center of their territory, her stomach grumbling as the warm scent of cooked food reached her nose. It wasn’t a restaurant in the usual sense. Money rarely changed hands there and anyone was free to use the kitchen themselves if there was room. But most mornings there were a few clan members who served as diliselanen, preparing simple meals to keep everyone fed.

Most of the food available consisted of leftovers from the night before, so Isii filled her plate with a small assortment of druffalo sausage, dried fruit and sweet corn cakes. Her eyes briefly scanned the hall, smiling as Karis eagerly waved her over to the table she was sharing with a few others.

“Is that all you’re having?” Senna asked, staring skeptically at Isii’s plate as she sat down. Her own was filled with a generous portion, high in protein to fuel her for what was most likely a grueling workout ahead. Senna had always been an active type. The woman wasn’t blessed with those muscles by accident. “You should fill up.”

“Nah, this is plenty,” she said. “Besides, unlike you I don’t plan on exercising today,” she teased with a grin. “If I ate that much, I’d just put myself in a food coma and sleep it off.”

“Seriously, though,” Senna said, taking another bite. “You look like you’ve lost weight. Are you eating ok?”

“Meh.” Isii shrugged. “Money is a bit tight in the city, but I get by. Besides, I’ve got a hookup with a sweets shop. The baker there would probably load me up with a week’s worth of bradhen for free if I’d let him, so honestly it’s a blessing that I can still fit into these pants.”

The joke didn’t seem to soothe any of the concern on Senna’s face.

“Hey Sugar Snatch,” Ell said, her hand roughly mussing Isii’s hair as she slid into the seat next to her. Isii made a face, running a self-conscious hand over her head as her friend grinned, leaning in with her chin on her hand. “Soooo, you and Virassan left the party pretty early last night,” she purred suggestively. “Got any juicy details for us?”

Isii scoffed. “I was feeling pretty wiped. Jet lag and all that. He just walked me to my room.”

“And you didn’t invite him in?” Isii shook her head, surprised when Ell cursed loudly in response.

“Called it,” Aisha said flatly, putting her hand out. Ell grumbled as she reluctantly handed her a few crumpled bills.

“You were seriously betting on whether or not I banged the guy?” Isii asked, laughing. “I literally just met him.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Ell said, smirking as Isii stuck her tongue out. “Dude, what? Chicks dig scars. Besides,” she said, plucking a corn cake from Isii’s plate, “I figured you might be a little desperate. It’s not like you’ve got access to some good Dalish dick in the city. Unless you’ve got some guy stashed away that we don’t know about.”

Isii joined in the laughter around the table, trying her best not to make it sound forced as she awkwardly sipped her coffee.

“Seriously, though,” Ell continued, “I can’t imagine you’ve been going dry this whole time.”

“Oh, of course she has,” Aisha teased sarcastically. “Don’t you know the Dread Wolf swoops down and takes girls who misbehave?”

“If he hasn’t taken me by now, chances are he’s not going to,” Isii said with a suggestive arch in her brow, laughing with the others as Karis frowned at her.

“You really shouldn’t joke about things like that.”

“I only know one other Dalish elf in Val Royeaux,” she said, trying her best to steer the conversation away from her love life. “The former-First of Clan Sabrae. We work together.”

“Oh, Vena just transferred from Sabrae,” Karis chimed cheerfully, indicating a rather reserved woman who sat among them, seeming to grow tense at the mention of Merrill.

“A _former_ first?” Aisha asked curiously. “That’s not something you see every day.”

“Merrill’s a good person, she just… wasn’t a good fit for her clan,” Isii said delicately. “But sometimes Firsts just go their own way, I guess,” she added, fiddling with the food on her plate. “It’s not like she’d be the only First to ever consider leaving.”

Isii could feel Karis’s eyes on her as Vena spoke. “Merrill made her own decisions,” she said flatly, “But she was unquestionably exiled. There’s no grey area there.”

“Ooh, look, your boyfriend’s here,” Ell teased, nudging her.

“He’s not my -” Isii cut herself off as she followed the line of Ell’s gaze, watching as Virassan approached the table. He smiled, sweetly, greeting her with a nod.

“On dhea.”

“On dhea,” she echoed.

“Uneras son?”

“Well enough,” Isii said, casting a polite grin.

“Sorry for interrupting. Deshanna wanted me to come find you. Apparently she wanted to discuss some of the details of my clan’s position on the proposal. As you weren’t in your room, I figured you might be here.” He paused, eyeing her plate. “ If you want to meet us in her office when you’re done eating-”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, pushing away from the table. “I was pretty much done anyway.”

His features warmed, pleased as she got up to accompany him. She did not miss the crude gesture Ell made with her fingers as she left, grinning wickedly as Isii rolled her eyes without comment.

Virassan remained silent until they were outside, rubbing the back of his neck as they walked. “I hope I wasn’t too forward with you last night,” he said sheepishly. “I might have had a bit too much to drink at the party.”

“Oh,” Isii murmured, her gaze cast aside as she bit her lip. “It’s fine. I mean… you did catch me off guard a little.”

“I just… wanted to kiss you and went for it and I feel like a bit of an ass now,” he said cautiously. “I know what Deshanna intends for us, but I don’t want you to think that I’ve made any assumptions about how you feel about all this.”

She smiled. “I appreciate that.”

His expression softened, somewhat relieved. “I want to spend some time alone with you, while I’m here. Give us a chance to get to know one another better. But I don’t expect anything more than that.” He offered her a reassuring smile. “In the end, this isn’t about what your Keeper expects, right? It’s about what we want.”

“Right,” she said with a nod.

The decision to bond was about what she wanted for herself.

If she could only figure out what that was.

***

Isii glanced up when she heard the soft knock on her door, watching as it opened slowly, Karis peering into her room anxiously. “Hey Isii. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” she said, somewhat confused as she set her laptop aside, Karis closing the door behind her. “What’s up?”

“Are you alright?” she asked cautiously, fidgeting slightly where she stood.

Isii frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just…” Karis paused, taking a deep breath as she approached, sitting on the bed next to her. “I got a really weird vibe at breakfast. With you talking about a First wanting to leave and I couldn’t help but think…” Her brows stitched together, concerned and anxious. “You’re still planning on coming back to the clan permanently one day, right?” Isii hesitated and Karis was quick to fill the silence, her voice quivering as she wrung her hands. “Because I miss you and I want you to come back and if you don’t then I’d be First and I always assumed you’d be Keeper but hearing you say that made me super panicky about taking on that responsibility and I just don’t feel ready for it and-” She cut herself off then, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid. I know I’m totally overreacting.” She sniffled, loudly, her eyes growing glassy. “It’s these damn hormones,” she said with a forced laugh, wiping at her face. “I swear my mood is just all over the place right now. Athras put his hand on my stomach this morning while we were cuddling and I straight up sobbed for about twenty minutes.”

“Hey,” Isii cooed softly, putting her arm around her friend as Karis slumped her head onto her shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about all that,” she added, placing a soft kiss into her hair. “Everything’s going to be ok.”

“I feel dumb for letting it freak me out,” Karis said, sighing. “It’s not like you have anything worth staying in Val Royeaux for.” When Isii didn’t answer she lifted her head, her brows raised. “You don’t, right?”

Isii’s gaze lowered, shifting uncomfortably. “I guess not.”

“Oh Gods,” Karis said, her eyes widening, “you _are_ thinking about staying there, aren’t you?”

“No,” Isii said, shaking her head. “No, not really. It’s just… this… _thing_ , I have going on.”

“What thing?” Isii worried her lip with her teeth as Karis sat up fully, her hand resting on Isii’s knee. “You know if there’s something going on that you can tell me, right? You’ve always been able to talk to me.”

“I know, it’s just…” Isii closed her eyes, her brow furrowing. “Ok, if I tell you this you have to swear to keep it a secret, alright?”

“Of course.”

“I mean it, Karis,” she stressed. “I really don’t need Deshanna biting my head off about this.”

“Shivasan,” she said firmly. “What is it?”

Isii took a slow breath. “There’s this… guy I met in the city…”

“Creators, really?” Karis asked, incredulous. “Is he a shem?”

“No, no. A city elf.”

“Are the two of you… like… together?”

“I don’t know, really,” Isii said hesitantly. “Sort of? I mean, it definitely looks like it’s going in that direction.” She looked down into her lap, her fingers nervously picking at the creases in her jeans. “But I really like him. He’s sweet. And it feels like we have a lot in common.”

“What could you have in common with a flat ear?” Karis’s face flushed suddenly, her eyes wide as she quickly backpedaled. “Sorry, I mean city elf. I’m not trying to be rude or-”

“No, I get,” Isii said. “It’s ok.” She didn’t mean any offense. The term was common among the Dalish. Isii used to use it fairly freely herself before she left for college. “He’s just… He loves history, like I do. We talk for hours about Elvhenan, about our people’s language. He’s an apostate who knows the Fade better than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s kind and flirtatious and funny in a strange sort of way. I feel really good around him. He makes me happy in the biggest, dumbest, most teenage crush kinda way.” She let out a sigh, rubbing her fingers over the bridge of her nose. “I know it’s stupid. I shouldn’t get myself involved with an outsider. It just sort of… happened. And now I’m finding myself really wanting to be more than just friends even though there’s probably no future in it.”

“There could be,” Karis said hesitantly, biting her lip. “I mean, who knows? Maybe he’d want to convert.”

Isii shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to ask him to do that. It wouldn’t be fair to have him to give up his life, his business, everything he’s built for himself just for me. Gods, just saying it out loud makes me feel really selfish.”

Karis rubbed her hand along her back, forcing a reassuring smile. “So you have a crush on a guy. That doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re probably just lonely, falon. I can’t imagine it’s been easy being away from home for so long.”

“Yeah,” Isii said halfheartedly. “I suppose.”

Karis gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “Things will be better when you move back home. If you don’t like Virassan, Deshanna can always help you find someone else. That’s how I met Athras and we couldn’t be happier.” Her smile broadened, lovingly rubbing the swell of her belly as she glanced down. “Besides, it will be good to have the little one grow up with her godsmother around.”

Isii paused, a confused frown tugging at her brow. “What do you mean?”

Karis glanced up, surprised. “You didn’t know? Athras and I are going to name you as our baby’s godsmother.” She blushed slightly, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I thought Deshanna would have told you,” she added, her smile widening. “She’s the one who suggested it.”

***

Just the sound of his voice made her eyes close, her smile widening. A single word, a single greeting, and it was enough to make all of her reservations melt away.

“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

“Not at all,” Solas soothed her. She could hear the grin in his tone and it only forced her cheeks to pinch even tighter. “I was hoping I would hear from you this evening.”

Isii shifted on her bed, rolling onto her back as she straightened her nightgown. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call you more often. This week has been crazy busy.”

“I understand. You have your own responsibilities to see to.”

“I did manage to make the drive to one of my phone carrier’s shops,” she said. “Wasted two hours on the road just for them just to tell me that the only models they had available to replace it would put me way over my budget. I don’t exactly have a couple extra hundred bucks lying around to cover the cost.” She let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing the back of her neck. “They said I could set up a payment plan, but it would have to be with my local outlet. So I’ll have to figure it all out once I get back to Orlais. Probably have to wait a few weeks and snag a couple extra shifts at the museum so I can save up. At least they put a lock on my old phone so no one can access any of my personal information.”

“Well that’s something, at least.”

She played with the telephone cord, idly winding it around her finger. “Is it weird and clingy to say I really miss you?” she asked, forcing a laugh. “I keep thinking about you. Just little things. Stuff that pops into my head that I would normally text you without a second thought. It’s so annoying when I remember that I can’t.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, chuckling. “I miss you too.”

The earnestness in his voice made the words stir in her chest.

“I wish I could send you pictures,” she continued. “Show you little snapshots of my home, my friends….” She bit at her lip, a teasing hum rumbling in her throat as she thought about the last photo she’d sent him. The way her heart had pounded in her chest as she shifted down her neckline, angling her chin to give him just the right shot. “I can’t exactly send you any more of the _inspiration_ I promised,” she giggled, her voice lowering. “You never did tell me if you’d take me up on the offer.”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Would you,” she asked, her toes curling against the bed, “if I could?”

He paused for a moment, his voice quieted as he responded. “I suppose it depends on what you would show me.”

An almost electric tension crept along her thighs as her feet kneaded into the mattress. _Gods,_ the things his voice did to her when it lowered like that-

“Well that would be up to you, baker,” she purred. “What would you want to see?”

“Right now?” he murmured. “Your face.”

She laughed. “You’ve seen my face hundreds of times.”

“Yet not nearly enough this past week.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Very smooth, Solas.”

“I make my feeble attempts, on occasion.”

“And after that?” she asked, chewing on her lip, worrying away the giddiness of her grin with her teeth. “What should I take a picture of next?”

He was silent for a time and her breaths grew shallower, quieted as she strained to hear each sound he made. If she listened closely enough, she could hear his breathing. “Your stomach,” he finally said, softly, an almost confessional quality to his tone. “Where your vallaslin curves across your ribs. How it slips onto your hips. Your thighs.”

Her hand drifted over her nightgown, tracing the path of her markings with her nails through the thin fabric as he spoke. “I see you were paying close attention when you saw me in that dream.”

“I was.”

Isii’s eyes closed, her skin prickling under her touch, her fingers stilling along the hem of her clothing, lightly brushing her bare thigh. “You like my vallaslin?”

“Normally, I-” He stopped himself, seeming to reconsider his words. “On you, yes. Though I much prefer the shape of the body beneath them.”

“I guess they’d look a little exotic to you, wouldn’t they?”

He laughed then, a brighter, rounder sound than she expected. “I suppose you would think so.”

“Am I wrong?” she hummed. “Or maybe I’m not the first Dalish girl you’ve lured away.”

“I can’t say I make a habit of it, falon.”

“Were there others? Or am I your first?”

“Ma sashathe,” he answered. “I don’t come across many Dalish these days. And none of them have been quite like you.”

The warmth in her cheeks crept up her ears as she smiled. “Well if I was going to send you a picture of that, I guess I’d have to push my nightgown up…” she said, easing the cloth back, the air chilling her skin ever so slightly as she ran her hand along her belly.

There was a stifled sound on the other end of the phone - one she could quite make out, but it made her pulse quicken. “I suppose you would.”

“You sure this isn’t just an excuse to get a photo of me in my underwear?” she teased.

“The view would provide multiple benefits,” he hummed quietly. “Though admittedly, I would rather see it in person.”

Isii shuddered at the thought - Solas being there, in her room, seeing her as she was now. He heat of his gaze. The anxious anticipation of his touch. “I would like that,” she said, wetting her lips. “If only you were here.”

“I take it from the mention of your nightgown, that means you’re in bed?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her legs pressing together as he hummed thoughtfully. “Does that spark a nice image for you, baker?”

“Admittedly, it does,” he murmured. “Though that wasn’t why I asked.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“You do realize there is a way we could see each other? Tonight, if you wished.”

She paused, her hand stilling against her skin. “You want to find me in the Fade again?”

“I can,” he said delicately. “If you want me to. Admittedly, I’ve thought about it. Though after how the last time went -”

She giggled. “Are you afraid I’m going to jump you again, Solas?”

“I would not say that,” he murmured. “But I would not want to catch you off guard and appear unexpectedly. It would not feel right to seek you out without invitation.”

“Well, consider this your formal invite,” she said warmly. “I’d love to be able to see you.”

“It may take me some time,” he admitted. “Long distances can complicate matters somewhat when trying to locate another in dreaming. But I am certain I can manage it. Are you planning on sleeping soon?”

“Once I hang up.”

“Then I will retire early this evening.”

Isii smiled broadly, a giddy thrill making her toes curl. “Well then. I guess I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Sleep well, lan’sila,” he said warmly. “I’ll find you as soon as I can.”

***

Isii wandered the museum, frowning.

Something wasn’t right.

She was trying to find her way to the lobby and yet every turn she made just led her deeper into a sprawling maze of white walls and display cases. The exhibition was a jumble, familiar pieces all set in the wrong places. Chantry art from the Divine Age suddenly merging with the antiquities of Par Vollen, Steel Age paintings of the impaled Queen Madrigal of Antiva hanging alongside the remnants of the Exalted March of the Dales, all haphazardly displayed in a manner that made no sense, logically. The lights had dimmed and there were no signs of life - not a single sound beyond the click of her heels on hardwood flooring and the echo of her own voice. Isii could feel a sense of dread pooling in her stomach. Maybe they had locked her in for the night? But that couldn’t be right. There should be security staff left in the building - someone who could help her make her way out of there.

She was wandering through a section of Elvhen artwork, the pantheon looming high on the walls around her, large and strangely menacing in the low light when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Isii nearly jumped out of her skin, turning quickly with a startled gasp. The baker was quick to release her, taking a step back as relief washed over her features. “Solas! Thank the gods,” she said, grasping his arms. “I thought I was alone in here. Did the museum close early? Where is everyone?”

He smiled at her, a warm and patient grin as he cupped her jaw between his hands and suddenly the world became very still. “This is a dream, Isii,” he said quietly, studying her face. “You asked me to come find you. Do you remember?”

Consciousness seemed to slip, stirring in a way she could not quite put into words until gradually reality took hold. She was in the Fade. None of this was real, save for the man who stood before her. She looked up at him, beaming before throwing her arms around him, pressing her face to his chest as he made a startled sound, soon followed by soft laughter as he returned the embrace. “This is so surreal,” she said, pulling back again to look at him, taking his hands in her own. “You’re really here?” He nodded as her eyes playfully narrowed. “How do I know I’m not just dreaming that you found me?”

He chuckled, his happiness written plain across his features as he looked down at her. “How shall I prove it to you?” he asked, bringing one of her hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “A change of scenery, perhaps?”

“You can do that?”

“I can shape the Fade in any manner I wish,” he explained. “Simply choose a destination and I will take you there.”

“Anywhere?”

“As long as it is familiar to me in some fashion,” he said with a nod. “Someplace I have seen in waking or in dreams.”

Isii paused, wetting her lips as she thought, overwhelmed by the possibilities. There were so many places she wanted to go, so many things she wanted to see and he could offer her any of them. The barriers of time were meaningless here in the Fade. For a Dreamer who explored memories of the ancient world, he could truly show her everything she’d ever wanted.

“Surprise me,” she said with a smile, pleased to see the way the corners of his lips lifted at the suggestion. He pondered for a moment before nodding, seemingly coming to a decision as he squeezed her hands.

“Close your eyes.”

She obeyed, anticipation fluttering in her chest as she felt him gently pulling on her hands, guiding her forward. The sound of her heels on the museum floor were the first change she noticed, gradually shifting and twisting until each strike made an odd ringing sound she couldn’t quite place. It reminded her a wind chimes, a chorus of small bells reverberating after each step. She furrowed her brow, head tilting curiously as she felt a breeze brush against her skin - cold, yet not unpleasant, the slight scent of evergreens reaching her nose. She could feel him shifting, stepping beside her as he moved her hands downward, her fingers finding the hard and smooth surface of what she could only assume was a railing of some sort. His footsteps fell quietly at her side, circling her until she felt his hands fall gently against her waist, his breath on her ear making her chest tighten as he whispered softly. “Open them.”

Her lips parted, eyes widening as she took in the view before her - the broad expanse of snow-capped mountains stretching out into the distance, the sun golden and glowing as it kissed the edges of the stark stone slopes. The sky was brilliant, painted with ribbons of color that were unlike anything she had seen before, streaks of green that seemed to shimmer with a foreign iridescence, as if each held a glimpse of a universe of stars just beyond their boundaries, floating among clouds like soft plumes of smoke. She couldn’t stop staring, gawking in awe as she felt the warmth of his lips by her ear. “The sky looked quite different back then, didn’t it?”

“Back then?” she echoed, her eyes shifting to take in the structure around her. They were standing on a balcony made of glass - so clear that it was as if they were simply suspended on air, the dizzying drop to the fir trees below making her head spin the longer she stared at it. The wall behind them held two arched doorways, walls made of stone and wood and twisting spirals of crystal that seemed to be crafted in a fashion entirely alien to her. No chisel had carved them and yet they bore intricate patterns, as if nature itself had given them form. And yet it bore features that were familiar, architectural details that she would recognize anywhere - stacked arches that tapered at their peak, lined with small, chipped mosaic stones. Looming turrets that stretched and bent and merged as they formed the roof of the structure. It was ancient and it was Elvhen - that much she knew.

“What is this place?” she asked, stepping away from his touch as she approached the wall, her fingers moving over the delicate carvings.

“Tarasyl’an Te’las,” he answered, his eyes fixed on her as she curiously studied her surroundings.  Beyond the wall lied what appeared to be a bedroom, firelight casting odd shadows within. Her lips worked over the words, muttering them softly to herself as she frowned.

“Sky… held… Place where the sky was held back?” she murmured, displeased somewhat by the clunky translation and yet Solas’s smile only broadened, an odd look of pride on his face as he nodded.

“An ancient Elvhen castle, hidden away in the Frostback Mountains.”

“This is incredible,” she said with a breathless laugh, her steps trailing back to the edge of the balcony, her fingers running over the railing. “I assume it’s not still standing? You’d think someone would have found it…”

“Not in this form, no,” he said, his fingers brushing loosely over hers. “Another fortress stands in its place, though even that has crumbled under the weight of time’s passage.”

She looked up at him, grinning. “Whisking me away to your own private castle with a spectacular view?” she teased, her brow lifting. “You certainly know how to make a girl feel special, Solas.”

“I had hoped you would appreciate it,” he said softly. There was something odd about his demeanor, something in the way he looked at her that made her pause, tilting her head.

“Something on your mind?”

His lips parted to speak but he stopped, seemingly uncertain how to put his thoughts into words. “Merely indulging myself,” he muttered, his gaze softening as his fingers went to her chin, gently tilting it. His thumb brushed slowly over her lip and she felt her breaths catch. “I suppose I cannot help but wonder what it would have been like, if you had existed in Elvhenan.”

She let out a breathy laugh, lips parted to reply but before she could speak he was leaning in, his mouth meeting hers and nothing else seemed to matter. He was bolder now than when he’d kissed her in the bakery and yet no less gentle, his tongue brushing against her lips, seeking permission before pressing into her mouth. His hand cupped her cheek, his arm wrapping around the small of her back, pulling her up tight against his chest. The sounds he made were quiet, a hushed rumble of need in his throat that made her shiver, her heart racing, unsteady on her feet as she gripped his shoulders. The effect he had on her was intense. It was almost embarrassing how quickly she melted against his warmth, how something so simple could drive so deep into the very core of her desires. How it could make her forget how foolish this all was, how she’d spent the last week questioning herself, agonizing over the promise of a love affair with a city elf, how it went against everything that was expected of her as a First. Those thoughts bubbled to the surface now, a nagging guilt making her reluctantly pull away from his lips, his forehead pressed to hers as she kept her eyes closed.

“Solas,” she said, stilling his movements as she felt him lean in again, already kicking herself for what she was about to say. “There’s something I should tell you.”

He pulled back only far enough to look into her face, curiosity tugging at his brow as she chewed on her lip, bracing herself. “That guy I mentioned,” she began hesitantly, “the one my Keeper has had me working with… She wants…” She stopped as her stomach tightened, shame flushing her face with heat, but if she didn’t say it she’d feel like she was being dishonest with him. “Deshanna wants me to bond with him.”

She could see the sudden weight in his expression, the crushing disappointment and it made her throat tighten. “I see,” he said quietly. His hold on her began to loosen, but she tightened her grip on his shoulders.

“But I don’t want him,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “He’s nice, but… He doesn’t make me feel the way you do.” Solas smiled softly and she lowered her gaze, her fingers toying with the collar of his shirt. “I just thought you should know,” she said. “I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

There was something odd in his expression, a certain darkness behind his eyes as he traced his thumb along her cheek. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be in Val Royeaux, Solas,” she whispered. “And I don’t want to go back to the Marches and always wonder what this, _us,_ could have been.” She looked up at him, a small glint of hope in her face. “I don’t want to think about you as the one that got away.”

His smile warmed as he nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“When I get back to Orlais, can we just… be together? See where this goes?” Her face flushed at the question, the sudden burning vulnerability in the possibility that he might refuse and she found herself backpedaling as her gaze lowered. “I know you wanted to wait, to think about it, and I know you have your reasons, but-”

“Isii,” he whispered, her eyes lifting to his as he guided her chin up. He studied her face, mouth working over words that never quite formed before he leaned down, answering only with a kiss. This time, it felt different. Hesitant, almost apologetic, yet that tension melted away into something deeper, something searing, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled her against him. Lips and tongues moved together, harmonious, giving and taking in turn as his fingers wove into strands of her hair, nails raking her scalp. It felt different here in the Fade, as if she could sense his feelings with each caress, washing over her, stirring and merging with the warmth in her chest. How he cared for her, wanted her, how in that moment she was the very center of his world, how walking away was unthinkable because he could not bear to lose her. Maybe she was imagining it. Maybe it was all in her head and yet the intensity of that feeling was no less real.  

He drew away from her lips slowly, eyes half-lidded as he stared down into her face, brushing an errant curl from her brow. “Ar la-”

Isii’s eyes shot open, her body jerking from the sudden startle into consciousness as a fist pounded heavily against her bedroom door. She winced at the sharp sting of daylight, disoriented as she shifted groggily in her bed, the weight of her physical body seeming so much heavier than it had in the dream. She groaned, frowning as she rubbed her hand along her face.

The knock sounded again and she sat up, stifling a yawn. “Just a second,” she rasped, her voice throaty from sleep.

The downside to a little rendezvous in the Fade was that either one of them could wake without notice.

She made a mental note to apologize to him later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> tuatharla - a commonhouse, a creation of my own taken from the words tuatha (to unite) and arla (house).  
> diliselanen - cooks  
> On dhea - good morning  
> Uneras son? - Sleep well?  
> shivasan - I swear  
> Ma sashathe - My only
> 
> Cameos: Thanks again to these awesome creators for lending me their OCs.
> 
> Karis - [Warsonghold](http://warsonghold.tumblr.com/)  
> Senna - [Pridetothefall](http://pridetothefall.tumblr.com/)  
> Aisha - [Right-in-the-vhenan](http://right-in-the-vhenan.tumblr.com/)  
> Ell'ahnaa - [Fleschybits](http://fleschybits.tumblr.com/)  
> Vena - [Cryllia](http://cryllia.tumblr.com/)


	22. A Change in Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little different for this brief update. I had a request to write a bit of Solas's perspective during the last chapter. So here is his take on their shared dream.

Perhaps it was selfish of him, bringing her here. Solas delighted in her awe, how Isii’s eyes widened to take in every detail, how her fingers played over the architecture of a place he’d once called home. He knew she would appreciate it. It fed into her fascination with Elvhenan. And yet the choice of location was admittedly self-serving. Seeing her there, standing on the balcony outside of his bedroom, a private space that he had only shared with a privileged few - it allowed him to slip into a fantasy all his own. He could look past her modern attire, the blouse and high-waisted skirt, the heels that spoke of an age ill-fitting to this setting. He could even look past her vallaslin, markings he would pray she’d never bare in this context. Here, he could imagine her as she would have been in that time. Here, he could see her and pretend that she was just like him - not bound by the limitations of mortality, granting them all the time in the world. He could fool himself, for however brief a moment, that she knew who he was and still chose to stand there with him, the weight of his secrets no longer bearing down on him.

It was a delusion that he cherished.

Isii looked up at him, smiling, the impending sunset kissing her amber skin with a golden glow. She was so beautiful. Captivating. Her head tilted slightly, strands of hair catching the light as her brows pinched curiously.

“Something on your mind?”

There was no possible way he could make her understand how important this moment was to him, how much it meant to see her here. “Merely indulging myself,” he said softly, gently guiding her chin with his fingertips. He let his thumb brush over the full swell of her lip, watching as her features softened. “I suppose,” he whispered, “I cannot help but wonder what it would have been like, if you had existed in Elvhenan.”

She laughed softly. Why wouldn’t she? He was certain it sounded somewhat absurd to her and yet no truer words could have been spoken. He leaned down, treasuring the light brush of those full lips against his own, his eyes closing as he heard her let out a soft, needy sigh. He was far less patient than the last time he’d kissed her, his tongue pressing into her mouth, desperate to taste her, relishing the way she yielded to him. He could sense her excitement, an aura of warmth and want building and surging with each slow pass of his mouth against hers and he pulled her closer, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest, the small of her back arching against his arm, her fingertips digging into his shoulders. She was perfect. So perfect. A man his age had no right to feel so boyish and yet he found so much joy and relief in this, in simply holding her, in kissing her, in allowing himself to give in to his unrelenting desire for her. It seemed so silly to have missed her so much and yet in only a week’s time he’d found himself truly yearning for each brief phone call, acutely aware of her absence each time he went into work and saw her table empty. Perhaps he should have taken this as a sign that he was far too attached, that he had allowed his loneliness to be sated however briefly and was greedy for more, but he could not fathom spending another moment denying himself this indulgence. She wanted him. She wanted him and he was tired of being alone.

She pulled away from his kiss, her brow still pressed to his own and he was quick to lean in again, chasing after her lips but she stopped him with the press of her hands. “Solas,” she whispered, “there’s something I should tell you.”

He pulled back, peering down at her as she nervously worried her lip between her teeth. “That guy I mentioned,” she started, her words cautious as she avoided his gaze. “The one my Keeper has me working with… She wants…” She stopped suddenly, an uneasy grimace pulling at her features as her eyes lifted to meet his own. “Deshanna wants me to bond with him.”

Everything went very still for a moment, Solas rolling the thought through his mind as his expression fell. She was to be bonded. Married. To another. “I see,” he said quietly, already trying to tell himself it was for the better. Was it not best for her to find someone more properly suited to her? Someone she could truly share a life with? This other man - she could grow old with him. He could offer her a sense of normalcy that Solas never could. Even if he pursued her now, even if she embraced his advances - in a few years time he would have to leave. He would have to walk away so that no one, not even her, could grow to suspect that he was different. Better to end this before it begins - even with as much as that thought hurt him now.

He loosened his hold on her but hers only tightened, squeezing his shoulders. “But I don’t want him,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s nice but… He doesn’t make me feel the way you do.” Her words soothed a smile onto his lips as her fingers traced along the collar of his shirt. “I just thought you should know,” she whispered. “I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

The crueler part of him wanted to laugh, to mock himself for what he was doing. She wanted honesty and that was something he could never truly give her. Her desire for neither of them to bear secrets was as moving as it was pitiable, his thumb brushing along her cheek as he looked down into her face. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be in Val Royeaux, Solas” she murmured, a sad weight in her eyes at the admission. “And I don’t want to go back to the Marches and always wonder what this, _us_ , could have been. I don’t want to think of you as the one that got away.”

His smile broadened. “I know what you mean.”

“When I get back to Orlais, can we just… be together? See where this goes?” She retreated from the question, her eyes casting away from his quickly as her voice wavered. “I know you wanted to wait, to think about it, and I know you have your reasons, but-”

“Isii,” he whispered, stopping her. She stared up at him, studying his face and she looked so vulnerable in that moment, so open and uncertain and he found himself unable to think of the right words to say. Instead, he kissed her, hoping the action would speak for him. The answer was yes. A thousand times yes. Because even after spending weeks trying to piece apart his feelings, to figure out some reason behind his attraction to her - none of it seemed to matter. He did not need to know what made her so unique, what quality it was that drew him to her.

He loved her.

He had no explanation for it, but that did not make that feeling any less real. It seemed so strange to feel so much for someone he’d only known for such a short time - and yet he knew her laugh. Her smile. He knew the quickness of her mind. The way Elvhen curled so lyrically from her tongue. How warm and welcoming her desire for him was and how incapable she was of hiding it. How her mere presence brightened his day. How even the smallest message from her brought a smile to his lips. He had not felt that sense of connection for so long - had not felt truly wanted for so many years. Here in the Fade, that feeling was only amplified, an emotion so broad and so all-encompassing that he could happily drown in it. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled her tight against him again, feeling as though she could never be close enough, as though he had to drink every part of her in because he knew in the end his time with her was fleeting and he did not want to waste a moment more.

He drew back slowly, watching the way her eyes fluttered open, the breathlessness that puffed softly over her parted lips, the way her hair framed her face - mussed and pulled from its binding by his fingers. He brushed a loose curl from her brow, his heart feeling so warm, so overwhelmed that he could not stop the words that so desperately clung to the tip of his tongue.

“Ar lath-”

He halted abruptly at the sudden vacantness in his arms, the loss of her weight, the heat of her body no longer pressing against his. He stood, confused for only a moment before he took a slow breath.

She’d woken up from the dream.

Solas pinched at the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing.

That was probably a good thing. As true as his confession was - perhaps it was too early for such declarations. No matter how strong his feelings were for her, he did not know if she felt the same way. She desired him, yes. But that was not the same as love.

Solas allowed the vision of Tarasyl’an Te’las to fade back into obscurity. He didn’t need to stare at images of a life long dead and gone - not when he no longer had anyone to share them with.

Still, when he woke it was with a smile on his face, his fingertips tracing over his lips.

She wanted to be with him.

And though he could think of many reasons to refuse - he had no intention of doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While normally I would post something like this in a side-story (similar to the [bonus content](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4641462/chapters/10585134) I have for [Tranquility](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3169394/chapters/6882176)), I thought it was important to understand his perspective - particularly in terms of his declaration of love. In the future, requests like this may how up in a separate AO3 post. If so, I'll be certain to link it in the notes section.


	23. First Date

After a long stream of hugs, kisses, and promises to come back soon, Isii was finally able to make it into her car for the drive to Wycome. The flight back to Orlais was thankfully uneventful, though Isii wasn’t exactly pleased with Deshanna’s sense of timing. It never would have occurred to her Keeper that the eve of Satinalia was a terrible time to schedule a last minute trip. The only flight they could find that wasn’t overbooked had her wasting most of the day on a long layover before finally arriving in Val Royeaux late into the night. The aura of an airport right before a major holiday was always a sour one - employees displeased that they had to work when their friends and family members were enjoying time off, haggard travelers praying they wouldn’t be stranded by delays, worrying about gifts they never got around to buying or relatives they were not looking forward to seeing. Generally speaking, everyone was in a foul mood and tempers were short.

Isii, meanwhile, couldn’t help but feel giddy.

She had a date tomorrow night.

She hadn’t told Solas much about what to expect. He knew she had a friend who was throwing a party for Satinalia and that she wanted him to be her plus-one. What he didn’t know was that Varric Tethras did not do anything by half-measures and took his party planning very seriously. His house was huge for a man who lived alone and every year he filled it to the brim with people; a feat not too difficult for Varric, as he seemed to inexplicably know everyone in the city. There would be music, games, an open bar and _lots_ of socializing. She secretly hoped Solas wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the whole affair. He seemed like a rather quiet, introspective person - so maybe this wasn’t the best choice for their first date. But she’d already promised Varric she would be there if Deshanna let her go back to Val Royeaux in time - and she didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity to see Solas again as soon as possible.

Jetlag forced her to sleep longer than she’d intended, so her afternoon was spent scrambling to clean her apartment while trying to figure out what to wear to the party. She had no reason to be nervous, really. She was pretty sure Solas would be happy to see her no matter what she was wearing. Isii settled on a simple plum-colored bodycon dress. As with the majority of her wardrobe, she’d bought it second hand - so the fit wasn’t exactly ideal. The dress was a bit more snug than she’d like and the hem was awfully short. She fidgeted for a time in front of her mirror, caught in a back-and-forth between tugging the skirt down and having to readjust the neckline to cover her bra. Still, if she was careful about keeping her knees together when she sat and avoided bending over, she would be fine.

She paired it with some casual layers of jewelry and spent the better part of an hour trying to get her hair to look like she effortlessly swept it into a messy, braided bun. Isii was still picking at her makeup when the doorbell rang and she rushed to answer it, stealing a moment to slip into a pair of heels before opening the door.

The look on Solas’s face proved her efforts were more than worthwhile.

“Good evening,” he greeted, smiling somewhat sheepishly to cover his brief moment of stunned gawking. He was dressed sharply, though always with the same casual air she was used to seeing. A simple forest green button-up peeked out from beneath a pale sweater under a dark double-breasted coat. The loose fit complimented the pleasantly slim cut of his jeans.

“Good evening, baker.” Isii stifled a giggle at the formality, standing in such stark contrast to her urge to throw her arms around him. Even though she’d seen him in the Fade during her trip, it did little to dampen how much she’d missed him, even with how silly and clingy it made her feel. “Come on in,” she said warmly, opening the door further. Solas gave a polite nod as he stepped into her apartment.

He held a small, wrapped box in his hands, his fingers worrying over the creased edges of the silvery paper. “I wasn’t certain if you wanted to exchange gifts now, or wait until the party.”

Her smile broadened as she eyed the box. “Now’s good. Makes it easier when we don’t have to keep track of them all night, right?” She walked briskly over to her coffee table, scooping up the wide, flat box she’d wrapped that afternoon. They’d agreed to get gifts in the tradition of the holiday. It only made sense, as she was going to be giving gifts to a few of her friends who she knew were going to be at the party - though she felt a bit embarrassed now for suggesting it. “Seems a little silly, huh?” she said with a laugh, turning the box in her hands. “Giving gifts to mark a holiday that neither of us celebrates.”  

“It is a day to extol the virtues of freedom, is it not?” he asked with a softened grin. “That seems a worthy enough cause.” They traded boxes and he waited patiently, clearly expecting her to go first. Isii smiled as she tore into the paper, slowly lifting the lid. She froze when she saw the contents - the blackened gleam of a wide-screened cell phone nestled among tissue paper. It wasn’t just a simple phone. It was a high-end device; the kind tech gurus blogged about for months in advance and people camped out in line in the hopes of getting their hands on one the day it was launched. It was a serious upgrade from what she’d had before. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands to inspect the custom case. It was printed with a design that she knew had to be of his own making. The print was painted in the style of Elvhenan’s famous murals - the profile of a dark-skinned woman with pale vallaslin, her white hair framed in a halo of gold. A wolf loomed close by her side, the background filled with green, overlaid with a subtle leaf pattern.

“I wasn’t certain what model you’d prefer,” he said cautiously, trying to gauge her reaction. “I was assured that this one was supported by your wireless provider, but I’d happily exchange it for another, if it doesn’t suit your needs.”

“Solas, this is…” She paused, a sudden stab of panic tightening her stomach. This wasn’t anything like the gift she’d gotten for him, which now looked utterly childish by comparison. She wondered how mental she would look if she tried to snatch it out of his hands now. “This is too much.”

His expression fell. “You don’t like it.”

“No!” she corrected quickly. “No, I do. It’s just… this must have cost a lot.” _And on a baker’s salary,_ she thought, her brow creasing further.

“It’s not an entirely selfless gift,” he offered, the corner of his lips lifting. “I do miss being able to contact you.”

She smiled, her cheeks warming as she ran her thumb over the case. “I take it you designed this?” He nodded quietly and she bit at her lip. “It’s beautiful.”

“I thought you might appreciate the sentiment.”

“Why the wolf?” she asked. He hesitated for only a moment before he shrugged.

“Something to remember the shop by? It is what brought us together, after all.” It did strike a strong resemblance to the one he’d painted in Le Pain Loup’s mural - white fur with pale blue eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly, setting the phone back into the box, placing it with an unrequired amount of delicacy onto her kitchen table. “It’s perfect.” Her eyes fell as she let out an embarrassed huff of laughter. “Gods, now my gift seems really stupid.”

“I’m certain it isn’t,” he reassured her as he carefully peeled back the edges of the simple brown paper.

“It’s silly,” she said apologetically. “And it did earn me some serious confused looks from my friend Alya when I commissioned her to do the embroidery for me. But, you know… I figured it would suit your bakery’s name.”

He frowned, amused and puzzled as he pried back the lid, his smile widening as he laughed. He pulled out the stiff canvas apron, the chest emblazoned with what was definitely the most non-threatening image of the Dread Wolf Isii could ever come up with. Looking far more like a romping puppy than a malicious god, his six red eyes gleamed as he bounded happily, a loaf of bread clutched in his jaws. Tucked beneath it was a simple sketchbook and a set of colored pencils that Ell had assured her were of good quality.

“Like I said, it’s silly-”

“Thank you,” he said, the warmth of his tone dismissing her need to apologize. He tucked the items back into place, his smile genuine as he nodded. “It was very thoughtful.”

“Let me grab my jacket,” she said, trying to swallow down her lingering tension as she moved over to her makeshift coatrack. It was nothing more than an exposed pipe that wasn’t technically supposed to bear any weight, but she had to make due with every inch of space in her apartment. She figured a few hangers weren’t going to lead to a massive plumbing disaster.

Solas occupied himself by studying his surroundings as she shrugged on a flared peacoat. “Enjoying the view?” she hummed.

“I admit, I was curious to know what your living arrangements looked like.”

“Oh, only the finest. You’ll notice a cracked plaster motif throughout,” she said dryly as she buttoned her coat. “The low water pressure and unreliable heating really adds character.”

“It’s charmingly cozy,” he said. _Cozy,_ she thought derisively. _A nice way of saying small._ She’d done what she could to brighten up the place, with string lights and a rather creative mosaic that was made of little more than pilfered paint swatches from the hardware store, but despite the artful arrangement of thrifted mirrors lining the largest wall of her living room, there was no hope of tricking the eye into perceiving more space. Her personal library was stashed into stacked wooden crates she’d been able to salvage from a local winery outlet, tucked into every nook she could find among her sparse furniture. Seating was limited. She didn’t have a proper dining table, unless you counted the one that served as extra counter space for her small single-wall kitchen, which she could pair with a few fold-up chairs she had hidden away in her bedroom. The once-rich color of her couch was faded around the edges where the fabric had thinned, and there wasn’t much room between the coffee table in front of it and the TV she had resting on a stand against the wall. Her apartment bordered tenuously between cozy and insufferably cramped.

Though she shouldn’t feel self-conscious about it with him. Every elf she knew in the city lived in run down, hole in the wall places like this. While there hadn’t been an alienage in Val Royeaux for decades, it didn’t suddenly change the economic standing of the elves who lived there. No one could really afford to live in the nicer parts of the city, where the shemlen hid themselves away from the “undesirable” residents of their capital.

Solas wandered leisurely over to the stacked crates, idly scanning the various titles. Most of it was filled with non-fiction - books about history, art, and language, along with a large assortment of travel guides to various places around Thedas. He picked one of them up curiously, his brow furrowing even as a smile curled his lips. “It appears you are well travelled.”

“Hardly. More like wishful thinking. Travel guides are the closest I can get to globe hopping,” Isii said with a laugh. “Outside of moving with my clan, I’ve only ever been to Orlais. And even then, I’ve barely ever travelled outside of Val Royeaux.”

“It is an aspiration of yours, then?”

She paused as she tied the belt on her coat. “I suppose. I mean, it would be nice. But not likely.”

“Why not?”

She peered at him, chuckling again. “You make it sound like I could just pick up and leave any time I choose.”

“If you truly wanted to, yes.” He watched her confusion deepen and he shook his head, placing the book back into the crate. “My apologies. Perhaps I am too used to not staying in any single place for very long.”

“And why is that? Just got a case of wanderlust?” A teasing grin tugged at her lips before she added, “Or maybe you’re running away from something? Am I now dating some infamous criminal in hiding?”

It was clearly said in jest and he received it in kind, though he didn’t laugh quite as openly as she thought he would. “No,” he answered simply, his eyes still fixed on her books. “You have quite the collection. I was under the impression that most people your age have gone entirely digital, when the opportunity presents itself.”

“I probably should,” she said, shrugging as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “It would certainly save me some square footage. But I like having an actual, tangible book in my hands. Especially with history texts. It makes the information inside feel more real, somehow.”

An odd look lifted the corner of his mouth as she stooped down, picking up a paper bag full of gifts she intended to distribute at the party. “Ok, I’m good to go,” she said, fishing out her keys to lock up behind them as she led him back into the cramped hallway.

***

The level of noise in the house was admittedly off-putting. Loud music encouraged even louder conversation and Solas found himself feeling suddenly claustrophobic as Isii led him by the hand through the thick throng of partygoers who seemed intent on cramming themselves into the foyer. She stopped occasionally, waylaid by warm greetings, gift exchanges and demands for introduction, which Solas fulfilled as patiently as he could. He tried to file away names as they were presented to him. He was already vaguely familiar with Dorian from his appearance in his shop. The Qunari accompanying him seemed to have started drinking early, clapping Solas hard on the back and the elf stiffened, trying not to show his discomfort. He watched the man’s large grey arms clasp Isii in a hug that nearly pulled her out of her heels before she had the chance to introduce them properly. Iron Bull. _What sort of bizarre name is Iron Bull?_ Then there was Merrill, a rather impish-looking Dalish elf with a habit of speaking far too quickly who assured him that Isii had told her all about him, which his date tried to downplay with a tense laugh. He learned the woman he’d seen briefly on All Soul’s Day was named Hawke, though he didn’t catch whether it was a first name or a surname as Isii was far too busy suggesting that she hire Solas’s services for her upcoming wedding. He’d made the mistake of assuming the woman who draped herself along Hawke’s side was her intended, which the raven-haired stranger seemed to find incredibly amusing, answering with a rather risqué joke that wasn’t at all appropriate for a first impression. She put out her hand, introducing herself as Isabela. Before he managed to let go of the polite gesture, she gave him a squeeze, her brows lifting as she suggestively reassured him that she was _very_ single. To her credit, Isii seemed far more amused than jealous, though she was quick to guide him away.

She had no need to worry. It was taking all of Solas’s willpower not to let his eyes focus intently on the generous curve of her ass as Isii walked ahead of him. The snug way in which that dress clung to her hips was not helping matters. He supposed a few glances wouldn’t hurt. She had, he assumed, worn the dress for his benefit - and he was greatly appreciating her generosity now.

The crowd eventually thinned the further they went, emptying out into a large living room that was clearly designed for such entertainments. The environment struck him as being much more like a tavern than a typical private residence- one wall stacked high with a brightly-lit display of various alcoholic offerings behind an impressively large bar.

“This is… not quite what I was expecting,” Solas said cautiously.

Isii smiled, a mixture of amusement and apology. “Yeah. Varric’s place is kind of the definition of an over the top bachelor pad.”

“Varric?” he echoed, his brows furrowing, a sudden pang of unease settling over him. She’d never mentioned their host by name.

She didn’t appear to notice his concern, her head swiveling, scanning the room. “Where is that dwarf?” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “I should let him know that we’re here.”

Any hope Solas had that the forename was simply common among dwarves quickly vanished as Varric Tethras emerged from the hallway, his face breaking out into a beaming smile as he caught sight of Isii. “Stormy! Glad you could make it!”

This was not good.

She stooped down for a hug before fishing into her bag, pulling out a small wrapped package and handing it to him. “Happy Satinalia, Varric.”

“Happy Satinalia yourself,” he said, his eyes meeting Solas’s for the first time. The look of recognition was clear, yet he did not say anything at first, using a slow sip from his drink as an excuse to take his time in studying him. When he smiled again, it was forced. “This your date?” he asked, his tone cooling.

Isii didn’t seem to catch on to the tension, grinning as she slipped her hand into Solas’s. “Yeah. This is Solas. Solas, this is my friend Varric Tethras.”

The dwarf tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared up at him. “Small world, huh?”

Solas nodded politely, his stomach tensing. He had no intention of drawing Isii into any of his backroom business concerning his association with Briala, yet Varric had played a vital role in providing them with necessary intel. Isii’s brows pinched as she looked to him for an explanation. “You two know each other?”

Varric answered before he could formulate a response, his smile widening. “Only in passing. I’ve shopped at his bakery before. The little place by the university, right? The one with all those little cakes?”

“Right,” Solas answered.

Varric turned to Isii once more, jerking his head toward the stairwell. “I’ve got jackets stashed in one of the guestrooms if you want to ditch yours. First door on the right.”

That was all the prompting she needed to ask for Solas’s coat, leaving him with a brief peck on the cheek and a promise that she’d be right back. It was difficult to enjoy the gesture, given the circumstances. Varric’s gaze left no question of his intentions. He wanted to speak to him and whatever he had to say wasn’t for Isii to hear. He should have found some relief in that, though the silence between them was tense as Varric walked over to his bar, sharing a few quick words with the man hired to tend it for the night. Solas seated himself in an overstuffed chair and tried to give off a calculated level of ease as the dwarf paced back over to him, offering a drink.

Normally, he would have refused. He was supposed to drive Isii home that evening and any level of intoxication would only delay his ability to quickly excuse himself, if an escape was needed. But the stern look on the man’s face eliminated the possibility. Besides, he could certainly use one right now.

He silently brought the dark amber liquid to his lips as Varric sat across from him, his elbows on his knees, his voice low and conspiratorial as he looked him dead in the eye. “Whatever shady shit you’re into, it doesn’t touch her.”

Solas measured the man’s protectiveness with some small amount of surprise, though he did not let it register on his face. “Then we are in agreement,” he said calmly. “I have no intention of involving her in any of my other activities. Just as I am certain you do not involve her in yours.”

Varric studied him cautiously for a time, his eyes narrowing. “I know I’m not in a position to judge what you do with your free time,” he said. “But my business is done in a way that isn’t going to hurt my friends. I can’t say I know the same goes for you.”

“As a gesture of full disclosure,” Solas continued, “I will reassure you that I am nothing more than what I presented at our first meeting. A middleman, I believe your choice of words was. I am not some sort of mastermind with a collection of agents at my beck and call. I merely assist others in their pursuits, when I deem it necessary.”

“Pursuits that involve blueprints to government buildings?” he asked pointedly.

“You had no objections at the time,” Solas said smoothly. “Nor did you have any difficulty in obtaining them, if I recall.” Varric leaned back in his chair, the scrutiny not lifting from his features. “If you must know, their use has already been implemented. My associates are interested in information. Nothing more.”

“Information about what?”

Solas stilled for a moment, considering how much he should reveal. This was Briala’s agenda, not his. Still, the offer of an explanation may soothe any urge Varric felt to warn Isii to stay away from him. “There have been certain recent activities that have caught our attention,” he said. “Large shipments have been brought into Orlais that have bypassed customs. And whoever is behind them appears to be taking great lengths to keep them well hidden.”

“Smuggling,” Varric said. “The Carta pulls shit like that all the time. Why would this seem out of the ordinary?”

“That was my thought as well,” Solas replied. “My associate was not so convinced. They believed this was being moved through government channels and yet still being kept under the radar. Their paranoia that perhaps the Empress was planning something covert pushed them to want to investigate the matter further.”

“Why would they be worried about what Celene’s doing?” he asked, frowning. “Do they have some kind of personal beef with her?”

“That is between the Empress and my associate,” Solas answered coolly. “And it does not concern me.”

“What does concern you, then?” Varric asked pointedly.

“Improving the lives of the elves in this city,” he said simply. “My associate believes they can achieve this and I will assist as long as I see reason to believe in their ability to do so.” His tone softened. “Isii is important to me, Varric. Believe me, the last thing I would ever want is for my actions to bring her any harm. I am very careful about maintaining my own well-being. And that level of caution is doubled in regard to her.”

Varric hummed thoughtfully, his gaze lifting as Isii returned. She paused, eyeing the glass in Solas’s hand as she lifted one of the drinks she was carrying. “Damn,” she cursed with a giggle, “seems like you and I had the same idea.”

Solas finished the last sip of his liquor before politely accepting the glass from her, the alcohol warming the column of his throat as she sat against the arm of his seat. “We missed you during Thursday’s game,” Varric said, his easy manner returning swiftly as he grinned. “I’ve got cards set up in the back, if you’re looking to make up for it.”

“Hmm, tempting,” Isii said with a smirk, glancing down to Solas. “Wanna go for a round of Wicked Grace?”

“Careful,” Varric said over the rim of his drink. “She looks innocent, but she’ll bluff the clothes off your back if you give her the chance.”

“A girl’s gotta supplement her income somehow,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet as she batted her eyelashes, finishing with a warm laugh. “Besides, you’re not supposed to warn him. Half the fun is pretending that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have you emptying the poor bastard’s wallet,” Varric said. “That would make me a very bad host.” Isii's giggle was muted by the pinked liquor that touched her lips, her tongue slowly licking them clean. Varric gestured to Solas with a tip of his chin. “Do you play?”

“I’m not much of a gambler anymore,” Solas said, sipping his beverage. He couldn’t quite identify what Isii had ordered for him, though he found it quite pleasant. It was a cocktail, sweet yet not saccharine, with a note of honey among what he could only assume was some sort of bourbon.

“You don’t have to play for cash,” Varric said with a wave of his hand. “That’s just for keeping score.”

“What do you play for?”

“Conversation, mostly,” Varric said with a shrug. “That way, I win no matter how the cards fall. Playing cards is a good way to get to know a person. See what they're made of.”

“Alright, no cash. Let’s make it more interesting, then,” Isii said, her brow arched as she looked over to the dwarf. “Play for shots?”

Varric’s smile widened. “I’m down.”

“What about you?” Isii asked, her fingers idly stroking the back of Solas’s neck. The glide of her nails made his skin prickle in response.

“I probably shouldn't,” he said reluctantly.

“Aww, why not?” Isii asked with a pout. “Are you afraid I'll leave you too drunk to drive?”

A smirk tugged on his lips despite himself. “You assume I would be losing in this scenario?” he asked, bringing his drink to his lips. “Perhaps I merely wish to save you from alcohol poisoning.”

She laughed and he relished the sound. There was nothing more beautiful than her laughter, the way it brightened her face, tightening her narrow eyes into creased slivers, plush lips pulled back into a broad smile. She leaned down and pressed a kiss onto his head. “Oh, it's on, baker,” she hummed. “If you're so certain you'll beat me, then prove it.”

In the end, the proposal had been a good one. Rather than silently keeping to himself as he often did at social functions, Solas found the task created a comfortable venue for discussion and he learned quite a bit more about some of the other guests who came and went from their table. Isabela was an unrepentant cheat who seemed to delight in getting caught, as it earned her double shots that she tossed back with gusto. A young man named Anders wasn’t exactly skilled with the game and grew quite drunk as a result. The more he drank, the quieter he became, though Hawke seemed to easily push back some of the gloom with her overly-affectionate insobriety. Dorian was insufferably smug, though there was a subtle level of self-depreciation to his seemingly inflated ego and Bull had little motivation to win as losing would earn him more drinks. Sera was there, though Solas could not fathom why, as she did not appear to know their host. He could only assume the allure of an open bar had led her to crashing the party. Varric didn’t seem to mind. Sera’s time at the table was short-lived. Her inebriated attention-span had no patience for cards. Isii proved to be a better player than he had anticipated and was responsible for most of the shots Solas consumed. He was certain to reward her with a few stinging losses of her own, which she drank down with a grin that became more lopsided as the night went on.

Solas couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much to drink. His head was swimming, though admittedly it was a pleasurable feeling. As was the way Isii toed off her shoe under the table to tease her foot along his ankle and the way she let her fingers trail across the back of his free hand while they played. He was somewhat relieved when the game slowly drew to a close, however. He didn’t think he could stomach another shot. His face was hot as he tried to blink back the subtle tipping and swaying of the room around him. It was definitely time to move onto something that didn’t involve more drinking.

“Anyone up for a round of King and Court?” Hawke suggested.

“I’m down,” Isii giggled. “Though there’s a fair chance we’ll all fall on our asses in the process.” Solas frowned, unfamiliar with the party game, so Isii explained the rules as the group started clearing space. One player was dubbed the King or Queen. They were blindfolded and had four scarves loosely tied at their wrists and elbows. The other players were conspirators in their court, each trying to kill the monarch before they got caught. Death was achieved by removing all the scarves without letting the ruler get a hold of the other players. The last one to successfully remove a scarf got to pick the new king. If the monarch grabbed one of them and held on long enough to shout “there is a traitor in my court” then the captive would become the new blindfolded fool who’s trying not to get killed and the dead monarch would leave the room.

The rules were simple enough, though he did struggle somewhat to sort them through the humming haze that now seemed so present in his head. Isii assured him it would likely be a very quick game. With as much as they’d had to drink, they’d be lucky if they weren’t constantly bumping into each other.

***

Isii chewed on her lip, looking for her window of opportunity. It was down to her and Solas now, with Dorian stumbling around blind in his pursuit. One more scarf and she could select Solas as the new king - a fate far better than having to be blindfolded herself. She’d abandoned her heels long ago, tip toeing quietly around the room, trying carefully not to bump into any furniture as she circled her friend.

“You two are being far too quiet,” Dorian complained, his nose scrunched up as he tried to steal a glance from beneath the blindfold. “Please tell me you didn’t leave me in here alone to make an ass of myself.”

“No peeking,” Isii chided, quickly darting away with a laugh as Dorian lunged for her. He slammed hard into the edge of the billiard table, muttering sharp words under his breath as he tried to rub the pain from his thigh. Isii saw her chance and leaned in, grabbing the scarf on his wrist. The slip-knot gave way with a sharp tug but she wasn’t able to pull back before Dorian’s hand clamped onto her arm. She cursed, squealing as he shouted his line, finishing before she could squirm away.

“Shit,” she giggled as Dorian laughed, pushing his blindfold back.

“Not fast enough,” he chimed in a sing-song melody as he started to tie the scarves into place on her arms. She glanced over to Solas who had remained rather passive during that round. He leaned against the wall with his arms folded, smiling back at her. His eyes had a somewhat drowsy quality to them now - the tips of his ears flushed pink from drinking. She couldn’t help but smile. It was absolutely adorable.

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Hope you’re happy. This’ll all be over when I catch you.”

“You can certainly try,” Solas said, his brow lifting skeptically. It was the last thing she saw before Dorian slipped the blindfold over her eyes, tying it a bit too tightly for her comfort. She squawked slightly in protest, but was met only with laughter.

“Can’t leave it too loose. You’d cheat otherwise.”

“Like you were trying to?” she answered, her lips pursed. She tilted her head back, trying to scrunch up her cheeks and shift the black silk into a more comfortable position. Dorian grabbed her shoulders, giving her a few spins which were far more disorienting than they had any right to be. Isii felt her balance tipping and did her best to stay on her feet when he finally let go. Even though she couldn’t see it, she could feel the room continuing to rotate even as her body drew to a stop. She wobbled a bit as she found her footing, chuckling at the oddity of the sensation.

“Alright, your Highness,” Dorian said smugly. “Have at.”

She heard his footsteps leaving the room and the sound of the door closing behind him.

Then nothing.

Isii put her hands out in front of her, cautiously taking a few steps forward, trying to find anything to orient herself within the space. Her leg nudged something and she ran a hand down, smoothing over a cool and leathery surface. The couch. That at least gave her some sense of her positioning. She’d noticed that Solas liked to cling to the edges of the room while they played, so she made a slow circle now, listening carefully for any sound of his retreat.

She could hear the party continuing outside, the low thump of a baseline beating against the closed door, the din of distant laughter and conversation. But not a single footfall.

“Solas?” she called out, hesitant. “You are still in here, right?”

“It’s just the two of us, _my Queen_.”

His voice was directly behind her, low and murmuring, so close it made her jump as she whipped around. Isii felt the tug on her elbow, one scarf slipping away as she tried to follow, arms outstretched and grasping as she lunged forward. Instead of finding him, her hands bumped into the wall. She heard him chuckle softly, the sound coming from the other side of the room.

“That was quick,” she said.

“Faster than you, it would appear.” She could practically hear him smirking as she laughed, taking a few steps toward the sound of his voice.

“I’ll have you know, I’m very good at tracking things,” she said, trying her best not to slur her words. She hoped she didn’t sound as drunk as she felt. She staggered slightly and stilled, steadying herself on her feet as she felt her body tipping a little to the right. The alcohol was really making it difficult to move with the blindfold on. “My father used to take me hunting when I was little.”

“Did he, now?” She felt a tug at her wrist. Her reflexes were faster this time. She caught the scarf in her hand and jerked it roughly as she pulled herself toward the direction of his movement, but he was quick to let go. She felt the brush of his sweater against the side of her hand for only a second as the scarf at her elbow shifted, pulling free from her as he withdrew. She cursed sharply as she waved her hands around, laughing.

“Are you fade stepping or something?” she asked, her voice pinched with her giggling. “Magic’s cheating, you know.”

“Keep your voice down,” he scolded with a laugh. “That counts as two, does it not?”

She nodded as she dropped the scarf that he’d freed from her wrist. Even though he hadn’t pulled it away completely, he had managed to loosen the knot, so it counted as a point. He only had one more to go.

“So,” he started calmly and she turned toward the sound of his voice. “What do I get when I win this little game?”

She laughed. “Are we negotiating now?”

“It seems like the proper time to do so.” She lunged forward to where she was certain he was standing, but found nothing but open air as she bumped into the couch. “I could end this any time I choose,” he continued. “So I’m curious. Indulge me.”

“I guess that depends on what you want, baker,” Isii purred, trying to move as quietly as she could. She couldn’t hear his footsteps, but he obviously had to breathe. She tried to listen for it, but it was virtually impossible to hear over the noise of the party outside. “Don’t count on winning yet, though. The second I catch you, it’s over.”

“Then catch me, if you’re so certain you can.”

He was close, so close she could practically feel his breath against her ear as he spoke and she was quick to turn, her arm brushing against his chest. She groped for a fistful of his sweater but he pulled back, the movement catching her off-balance as she felt her feet slip beneath her. Isii staggered, Solas’s hands quickly moving to her waist as she caught herself on the edge of the billiard table, both of them sputtering with laughter at her clumsiness.

Solas’s chuckling died down, his hands still on her sides, and though she could easily grab his wrists and end the game then and there, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull away. She could hear his breathing now, feel the heat of it slipping along the side of her neck, carrying the faint, sweet scent of liquor. “Perhaps it’s better if I catch you?” he asked, though the playfulness of his tone had vanished, replaced with a low rumble that made chills race down her spine. His lips hovered close before she felt them press against her skin, slowly trailing along her throat as she shivered.

“That’s definitely against the rules,” she murmured breathlessly.

“Do you want me to stop?”

She paused, her fingers flexing against the table. “No.”

His lips continued their ascent, teeth lightly scraping as her breaths hitched. Not being able to see him left her other senses heightened - unable to focus on anything but the sound of his mouth as it slid against her, the feel of his tongue as it teased along the blade of her ear. She canted her hips back, grinding herself against him and he let out a soft groan that made her toes curl. His teeth closed sharply against her throat, a hard sucking bite that made her gasp, her posture stiffening. “Oh fuck-”

He withdrew quickly, murmuring low. “Sorry-”

“No, that was good,” she corrected quickly. He let out a small, thoughtful hum before biting her again, gentler this time, massaging the aching skin with his lips. “Gods, that feels good,” she groaned, her hips rocking mindlessly. His fingers tightened against her waist before one hand slid up, cupping her breast so suddenly that she couldn’t stop the surprised whimper that escaped her. She whispered his name, placing her hand over his own as he squeezed, his thumb circling over the hardening bud of her nipple through her dress.

To the Void with the game. This was _so_ much better. Isii had a faint inkling that maybe this wasn’t the best plan. Her friends were sure to come check on them eventually. But right now that voice of reason was drowning in a sea of alcohol and an intense need to feel him. She turned hurriedly, a tangle of limbs and yet he kept her upright as she blindly searched for his lips. A hand to his jaw, a thumb brushing the corner of his mouth and _there_. She leaned forward and he eagerly met her halfway as she kissed him.

The press of his mouth was perfect - so much rougher than the timid kiss he’d given her before. Even the kisses in the Fade couldn’t compare, for now he was hungry for her in a way she hadn’t seen from him before. His tongue was bold, his hands bolder as they dipped to the hem of her dress, groping the curve of her ass and she muffled a needy whine against his mouth. One of her legs hitched against his side and he pulled it higher, his hand greedily slipping up the back of her skirt. Her eyes widened under the blindfold as his palm smoothed over her skin, hearing him let out a low and satisfied hum as his fingers traced the edge of her thong. Isii could feel the tingle of magic on his fingertips - a slow stirring that suddenly poured into her, stealing her breath away as it raced through her veins. She didn’t know what he was doing, what sort of spell it was, but _Gods_ it felt amazing. She cursed against his mouth, moaning as the sensation spread through her body, wordlessly pleading for more as she writhed.

When he picked her up, it wasn’t exactly what she’d call graceful. She let out a small yelp as he lifted her onto the edge of the billiard table, laughing against his lips as she tried her best not to tip over backwards. If he’d let her go, she would have ended up sprawled on her back and flailing in an attempt to right herself, but he held her firmly. She tightened her thighs against his sides instinctively, using his body to help hold herself upright as her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Isii was panting by the time he pulled back for air, his head quickly dipping to press his lips to her ear. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

“Vhenan?” Isii sputtered out a laugh, pushing the blindfold up with one hand as she peered at him. “How drunk are you?”

“Quite,” he hummed, chuckling as he nipped at her throat. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Well forgive me if I take drunken love confessions with a grain of salt,” she said, her giggling stifled by a sudden shudder that crept along her skin.

“You’re not what I expected,” he continued, breathing his words against her as his lips continued their trail along her jaw. “You fascinate me in a way I… I did not think I would ever find.”

“Solas-”

“I can’t make sense of it,” he said, cupping her cheek with his palm. “You feel so… _real_.”

That was certainly an odd thing to say and from the way he looked at her, it seemed to carry a weight she couldn’t pretend to understand. There was no time to question it because he quickly slated his mouth over hers once more, his hand cradling the nape of her neck. His magic surged again, casting waves of shivering pleasure that slipped down her spine. His other hand went back to her breast, fingertips raking over the flesh that swelled along her neckline and she swore to the Creators that if he stopped now, she would die. She needed this. She needed to feel how desperately he wanted her and there was no doubt about it now - not when she could feel the hard press of his erection between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around him fully, pulling him tight against her and he groaned, biting down on her lip.

_I could just slip his belt off right here and-_

_No,_ she corrected herself quickly. _No, that’s a bad plan._

She tried to come up with a better one, but despite how hard her heart was pounding, none of that blood seemed to be rushing toward her brain.

 _Gods,_ she wanted him.

The door opened suddenly and the sound of a loud, squawking laugh nearly made Isii jump out of her skin as she felt Solas’s posture stiffen. He whipped his head around to face the entryway as Isii let her legs fall from his sides, her hands quickly tugging down the hem of her dress.

Sera beamed at them from the doorway.

“ _I knew it,_ ” she declared triumphantly before turning quickly back into the hall. “Hey funny mustache guy! You owe me a twenty!”

“Oh for the love of-” Solas pinched at the bridge of his nose as Isii hopped down from the table, steadying herself when her feet hit the floor.

“That… uh…” She swallowed hard, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, her heart still fluttering in her chest. “We probably should have seen that coming.”

“She will never let me hear the end of this.” He let out a slow breath, his gaze downcast. “I’m sorry. I got… caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have-”

“Hey, no,” Isii reassured him with a shake of her head. “No, you were good. I mean, _that_ was good.”

He looked down at her, his brow furrowing. “Your lipstick-”

“-is all over your face,” she finished for him, chuckling as she swiped her thumb against a dark crimson smudge that now stained his lips. She couldn’t help but laugh. It looked a bit like he’d gotten into a fight with a punch bowl. “It’s a good color on you.”

She was fairly certain that the noise he tried to make was a laugh, but it caught tightly in his throat. She walked over to her purse which laid abandoned on the couch, retrieving a tissue for him to wipe up with. “I think maybe we’ve both just had too much to drink.”

“Most definitely,” he agreed.

“Do you want to call it a night?”

He nodded but his brow creased tightly. “I’m sorry. I am in no condition to be able to take you home.”

“Oh Gods, no, I wouldn’t want you driving anyway,” she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Think maybe you could call us a cab? My treat, since I talked you into the drinking game.”

“I can do that,” he said, the corner of his lips lifting.

***

Her eyes met his and Solas quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

Isii had caught him staring again.

He was embarrassed. His behavior tonight had been inappropriate. And though she hadn’t voiced any objection, he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d made an ass of himself. A few drinks in and all his self-control vanished.

He said he loved her and she laughed.

Of course she would laugh. It wasn’t a cruel or dismissive sound and he was certain she didn’t intend it to be. But he had told himself that those words were better saved for a more appropriate time, only to let them spill out of him when his head was hazy from liquor and his cock was aching to be inside her. It felt like he had cheapened it somehow. That it should have been expressed in a way that showed her just how much she truly meant to him.

He gave himself another mental kick as the cab turned down a narrow street.

His self-chastising couldn’t stop him from thinking about how incredibly good she’d felt. How warm and supple, how firmly she’d held him, how her tongue slipped against his own, rewarding him with warm moans of pleasure. How easy it would have been to take more, to tear at the zipper of her dress, to shove it down so he could lave his tongue over her breasts, how his fingers could have pressed between her thighs. He wanted to hear those moans rise in pitch, wanted to feel her clenching as her breaths sped, wanted his name on her lips as she pleaded for the satisfaction he could give her.

And he knew without a doubt that she would have let him.

The cab pulled up in front of Isii’s apartment building - a small, unassuming door wedged between two rather run-down businesses. “Alright, well,” she said softly, her hand lingering on the handle of the car door. “This is me.”

“Yes.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to affirm it. It wasn’t as though she didn’t know where she lived.

“Do you…” She paused, chewing on her lip. “Do you want to come up?”

He knew what would happen if he did. They would pick up where they left off. She would take him to bed and there was no power within this realm that could make him refuse her once he set foot inside.

“Yes-” he started to say.

But he was drunk.

So was she.

“I do… want to,” he clarified, frowning. She stared back at him expectantly as he shook his head. “Just… not like this.”

She smiled warmly - disappointed, yes, but no less touched by the sentiment as she leaned over, pressing a slow, leisurely kiss to his lips. “Some other time, then,” she said before rummaging through her purse. She pulled out her wallet to give him cash for the fare, but he shook his head.

“Keep it.”

She studied him before nodding, opening the car door. She paused for a moment longer, grinning coyly as she idly smoothed her dress with her hand. “I had a really good time tonight, Solas.”

“As did I.”

Her lashes fluttered downward as she shifted her weight. “I’ll call you. When I get the new phone set up, that is.” She flashed him another brilliant smile before starting to swing the door closed. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He waited until she was safely inside before giving the driver directions to his apartment. Solas slouched down in the seat with a sigh, already dreading the fact that he’d have to go retrieve his car tomorrow morning with what was likely to be the worst hangover he’d had in a few decades’ time.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile, the memory of her lips still lingering on his own like a warm glow.

As first dates go, he supposed it wasn’t all that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The apron Isii got for him was inspired by [this piece of fan art](http://geeky-jez.tumblr.com/post/128748808608/theselittlethingsaremine-made-some-art-for-bread) that I absolutely adore.


	24. Netflix and Chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW.

**_[Isii]: Greetings from the new phone. You are officially the first contact I’m putting in here. You should feel honored. :P_ **

**_[Isii]: You there?_ **

**_[Solas]: Sorry. I was simply busy. Is the phone to your liking?_ **

**_[Isii]: It’s awesome! The camera on this thing is fantastic._ **

**_[Isii]:_ ** **_Multi-Media Message. File sent: IMG_003.jpg. Click to View._ **

**_[Solas]: Ah. Well. The subject matter is certainly appealing._ **

**_[Isii]: Sweet talker._ **

**_[Solas]: I feel I should apologize for last night. It has been a very long time since I’ve imbibed that much. I’m sorry if my behavior was inappropriate._ **

**_[Isii]: No apology needed! I had a good time. Though I’m definitely feeling it today. Hungover like a beast._ **

**_[Solas]: I was certainly regretting it this morning. Thankfully I was able to heal most of the ailment relatively easily._ **

**_[Isii]: You have healing magic?!_ **

**_[Solas]: I do._ **

**_[Isii]: Lucky bastard._ **

**_[Solas]: It does come in handy._ **

**_[Isii]: Are you busy this Friday?_ **

**_[Solas]: I’ll be at the shop until closing, but am otherwise unengaged. Why do you ask?_ **

**_[Isii]: I thought maybe you could come over to my place? Nothing major. Just dinner and some Netflix. Something way more chill than last night._ **

**_[Solas]: I would be delighted._ **

**_[Isii]: Sweet. :)_ **

**_[Isii]: Anything in particular that you’d like to watch, movie-wise? I don’t really know what your tastes are._ **

**_[Isii]: That goes for food preferences as well._ **

**_[Solas]: I will leave that up to your discretion._ **

**_[Isii]: Hmmm. Alrighty then. It’s a date, Baker._ **

***

Solas felt a sense of awkward tension as he knocked on her door. The plastic crinkling under his fingertips sounded inordinately loud as he adjusted his grip on the small bouquet. The quick run to the florist after work had been an impulsive decision. It somehow did not feel right to show up at her place empty-handed. Yet he found himself questioning whether or not such a gesture was even done anymore. The expectations of courtship seemed to change so rapidly with each generation and truthfully, he’d paid little attention to such things since his re-emergence from uthenera. Looking to the internet for advice felt rather pathetic, yet it had not stopped him from doing so - leaving him all the more confused as his search only resulted in lists of things to avoid. _Don’t check your phone. Don’t appear needy. Don’t mention sex. Don’t bring up past relationships._ The last one would be simple enough. He couldn’t envision himself mentioning any of those women who were now thousands of years dead.

He grimaced at that rather morbid thought, quickly pushing it aside as the door opened.

“Ooh, flowers,” Isii cooed, smiling as she took the small bouquet from his hands. She seemed genuinely surprised yet not displeased as she eased up onto her toes, pressing a brief kiss onto his cheek. “How very traditional of you,” she teased, gesturing him into the apartment. “Feel free to kick your shoes off. My place is official elven territory. Shoes are entirely optional,” she added with a smirk.

She was dressed casually, bare feet padding across her floor. Her skirt was nearly covered by the oversized sweater that slouched off of one shoulder, exposing the thin line of her bra strap.

Solas loosened the top button of his dress shirt. Perhaps it would have been wise to change after work.

“I considered bringing a bottle of wine instead,” he offered, toeing off his shoes as she began to rummage through her kitchen cabinets. “But considering how our last engagement went...”

She laughed brightly, retrieving a glass jar. “Good thinking,” she said, turning on her sink’s faucet. “Besides, wine would have been way too posh for dinner.” She gestured to a tightly-tied plastic bag on her kitchen table, set beside two plates. “I hope you don’t mind some Rivaini takeout. I ordered a couple different things, since I didn’t know what you’d like. Go ahead and browse.”

He quietly began to set out the different items, examining the various containers as she arranged the flowers in her makeshift vase. It had been quite some time since he’d eaten Rivaini cuisine, yet the food she selected resembled the various types of dishes he recalled. Skewers of roasted meat served with a sauce that held the rich scent of Antivan coffee. A curried dish that was far more indicative of the spiced heat of Par Vollen. Small fried pouches of dough that appeared to be filled with some mysterious assortment. Noodles set in a sauce of ginger and coconut. Rather than claim one, he served himself a small portion of each for the sake of variety. She joined him, her own plate in hand, idly probing him with questions about his day as they traded styrofoam containers.

Once she grabbed drinks for the pair of them, she settled onto the couch, picking lightly at her food as she switched her television on. “Ok, so, since you didn’t give me anything to go on in terms of movies, I picked one out. Not totally sure it’s your style, but I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh?” he asked, taking a seat beside her.

“Are you into fantasy?”

“I can’t say I have much experience with the genre,” he said flatly. “What is the film about?”

“The short version? A woman is accidentally sent back in time, finds out her modern-day boyfriend is a reincarnation of this priest in Elvhenan and they have to figure out a way to send her back home.”

His brow lifted slightly as he twirled some noodles around his fork. “An interesting selection,” he said cautiously.

She made a face as she punched the buttons on her remote, selecting the film in question from her queue. “I know it sounds weird,” she offered with a shrug, “and it’s by no means some masterpiece of cinema, but if you can suspend your disbelief, it’s got some really neat moments.”

“I will trust your judgement,” he said, settling in as the opening credits rolled.

***

“Did they truly think a human suddenly appearing in the middle of Arlathan would go unremarked upon?” Solas asked, waving his hand dismissively toward the television. “The setting they chose is ill-fitting. A few hundred years later and they would have been well aware of the shemlen. But in this era? They'd never even encountered one before.”

“Again, suspension of disbelief,” Isii said, shrugging. “I'd bet you money they were nervous about casting two elven leads. We're lucky her boyfriend's not played by some dude with prosthetics glued his ears.”

“His former self seems like a bit of a pompous ass,” he grumbled. “One who apparently is incapable of keeping his robes from constantly displaying his chest.”

Isii laughed, tilting her head back to glance up at him as she curled her feet around the cushion in front of her. “He’s mostly there for fan service,” she said with a grin. “That becomes blatantly obvious once they get to the sex scenes.”

Solas chuckled as she shifted her shoulders, snuggling up against him. It had taken some work to get him to relax enough for this position. After they were done eating, she’d taken small steps. Scooting closer to him. Initiating contact with light touches, her head leaning against his shoulder, her fingers toying with his own. Eventually she’d convinced him to stretch out, turning lengthwise on the couch so she could sit between his legs, her back resting against his chest.

She wasn’t sure why he seemed so reserved around her, physically. He certainly hadn’t been at the party - nor was he the times she’d encountered him in the Fade. But when he wasn’t intoxicated or dreaming, he seemed guarded in a way she didn’t quite understand. Unsure of himself, as if he was afraid he was going to mess this up. He seemed so confident in all other respects that she couldn’t help but find this puzzling.

Then again, he had told her that he’d been alone for a long time. Maybe he just felt a little out of practice. Or maybe he’d been hurt before - burned so badly by some old flame that he was scared of letting anyone else get too close to him. Whatever the reason was, it was his secret to keep. She wouldn’t pry. If it was something he thought she needed to know, he would tell her. Until then, she’d do what she could to make him feel comfortable - to let him know without words that she wanted nothing more than for him to enjoy his time with her.

“Ooh, see, now this is why I love this movie,” she said, grinning as she watched the screen. The ancient priest took the female lead by the hand, her eyes widening in awe as he led her to a balcony overlooking the city. Music swelled as the camera panned over the CGI marvel of Arlathan, grand structures standing tall and proud among the trees. Wooden spirals wove themselves around the trunks, elves in flowing, gossamer robes strolling across the various bridges spanning between each platform, their elegant carvings complementing the stone structures below.

“Obviously there is some room for artistic interpretation, but you can tell whoever was behind the art direction of this film did their homework,” Isii continued. “They pulled from a few separate eras, but they incorporated a ton of aspects of ancient elvhen design.” She let out a wistful sigh, her smile softening. “It's how I've always pictured it.”

A thought occurred to her and Isii paused, turning slightly to glance over her shoulder. “Have you ever seen it? Arlathan? In the Fade… Did it look anything like this?”

A sad smile pulled at his lips as his thumb trailed lazy circles against her belly. “I'll admit, I do see a resemblance to certain temples from various parts of the empire. But no, Arlathan was quite different.” She looked back to the screen as he tilted his chin against the crook of her neck, murmuring in her ear. “It was the shining gem of Elvhenan- a place of impossible beauty, crafted by magic unlike anything this world has seen since. Magic that floated through every stone, every breath. Imagine sweeping fields of gold. A city grand and crystal-clad. Of castles floating high into the heavens.” His lips lowered, pressing a chaste kiss to her shoulder. “That is what Arlathan was. A glowing ember carved into the middle of the forest. At night, at a distance, you could see it shimmering among the darkness that surrounded it.”

“That sounds so beautiful,” she whispered.

“It was.”

She turned then, rolling over to regard him fully, her hands settling against his chest. “And you can show me? In dreams… can you take me to Arlathan?”

He nodded. “I can,” he said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “I will,” he promised.

Lips curled, her smile broadening as she tilted her chin up, her lips seeking his own. “You’re pretty incredible, you know that?” His brows furrowed slightly and he started to shake his head but she halted him, catching his chin with her fingertips. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to disagree with me,” she hummed, pressing her mouth to his once more. She felt him relax beneath her, warming to the gesture as his hand moved to cup her cheek.

One kiss slipped slowly into another. Then another. There was a leisurely quality to their pace - gentle and exploratory, teasing and playful, simply reveling in the feel of one another without concern for what it might lead to. Eventually Isii blindly groped for the remote, doing her best to pause the movie without having to draw her lips away. He laughed at the awkwardness of her movements, the happy sound muffling against her mouth, but she succeeded after a few failed attempts. The remote clattered noisily across the coffee table as she shifted her hips, kneeling over his outstretched leg so her hand could creep beneath his shirt. He was more muscular than she would have imagined, more toned, his lean body tensing under the new sensation as a soft sound rumbled in his throat. She was still fumbling with his buttons when he tugged at the hem of her sweater, circling his fingers against the small of her back. His magic stirred as it had at the party - her body shuddering as she felt a warm, rippling sensation radiate outward from his touch. Isii gasped against his kiss, mouth slackened and he took the opportunity to nibble on her lower lip.

“How are you doing that?” she asked breathlessly.

“Magic,” Solas hummed, kissing her jaw.

“I know that, you dork,” she laughed and he chuckled in response, nudging her head aside before trailing his lips down her throat. His magic still thrummed beneath her skin, swirling heat caressing her thighs as her breaths sped. “What sort of spell is it?”

“Elemental, mostly,” he murmured against her. “Fire. A touch of frost. The lightest brush of electricity.” He paused to suck along her collarbone, Isii squirming above him, a soft moan escaping her. The energy coursing through her had a rhythm of its own, a slow pulse that was steadily building. She couldn’t quite equate it to any other sensation. The tingling wasn’t unlike a vibration of some sort, though it felt like it was buzzing beneath her skin rather than above, mingling with warm caresses that traveled the length of her body. “Change the proportions…” he continued and the heat was enveloped by a sudden chill, Isii taking in a sharp breath as strong shocks of electricity lapped at her nerves. Her back arched, shivering as a rather smug grin spread across his lips. “...and you can alter the sensation.”

The cold abated, ebbing away as warmth curled through her once more, easing the goosebumps from her skin. Isii let out a slow, shaky breath as her eyes fluttered closed. “That’s... creative,” she said, her voice wavering. “Where’d you learn a trick like that?”

“It didn’t used to be so uncommon,” he murmured. It wasn’t exactly an answer but she couldn’t bring herself to care as his lips took her own once more, his tongue slipping gently into her mouth. She shifted, writhing, craving some friction to answer the wet heat pooling between her thighs. She wondered idly if she could come from his magic alone - a strong possibility, given how damn good it felt.

“Show me,” she demanded, pulling back only far enough to speak, her lips hovering close to his. “Teach me how.”

Solas paused as he considered, studying her face. “Alright,” he said with a slight nod. He took her by the wrist, flattening her palm against his bared chest. “Listen closely. Only cast when I tell you to. We wouldn’t want any mishaps.” She sat back slightly, smiling down at him. “I want you to summon into your hand. Don’t channel it into a spell. Just hold the energy there and focus on me. My heartbeat. My breaths. Let everything else fall away.”

Isii did as she was told, eyes locked with his as she pulled from the Fade, magic singing softly under her palm. It felt strangely intimate - more so than being tongue-deep in his mouth as she had been moments ago. “You should eventually feel my heartbeat under your skin-”

“I do,” she said, grinning as she bit down on her lip. It was a strange sensation but she could feel his pulse through her summoning, her magic falling into the same rhythm, beating slowly up her arm.

“We should start simply. A single element, so you can maintain your focus more easily. Which comes most naturally to you?”

“Lightning.”

His lips twitched slightly before he wet them, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Alright. In a moment, I want you to cast - but rather than going over the skin as you normally would, focus it beneath. Sense the veins, nerve endings, the pathways of muscle. That is what you want to target. And please,” he added, smiling softly, “do take care to only give me a little. It does not take much… and I would rather not find myself electrocuted.”

“That would put a damper on the mood, wouldn’t it?” she teased. “Trust me, I’ve used it for surface stimulation before, I know how to play it safe.”

He nodded and she slowly let the energy unwind, her will giving it shape as she cast. She didn’t see sparks as she normally would, his body absorbing the full effect. His reaction was instantaneous, taking in a sharp breath as his eyes closed, his lips falling open.

“Good?” she whispered.

His breaths shook slightly as he nodded, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hip. “Yes.” His voice had a breathless quality that made her body melt. His throat visibly tensed as he swallowed again, his teeth worrying his lip. “Once you’ve had practice you can…. move it throughout the body and-” His words were interrupted by a moaning gasp, his body arching as his head fell back against the arm of the couch.

“Like that?” Isii asked with a grin.

It took a moment for him to answer, his mouth shaping words that he couldn’t quite give voice to. Isii leaned in, brushing her lips over his exposed throat as she cast, feeling a low groan rumble beneath his skin. “Isii…” Solas stopped, his jaw clenching as he bit back another beautiful sound. She thought his voice was sexy before, but now it was completely intoxicating. Low and rich and heavy with pleasure. She wanted more, wanted to give him more, so she increased the power ever so slightly, willing her spell to blossom across his chest, trailing down to his thighs. His breaths pressed harshly through his nose as he moaned, his hips shifting beneath her.

“You’re a quick study,” he managed to say.

“Well thank you, Solas,” she purred, nipping at his pulse point before drawing her lips to his own. “It helps that I’m very motivated.” She let her hand fall lower, stroking his stomach, magic curling through his form as she kissed him. His fingers threaded tightly through her hair, any sense of reserve now fleeing as he held her firmly against his mouth. She lost herself in the rhythm of his lips, the flicks of his tongue, the rise and fall of his chest as his breaths grew more ragged and strained. And those moans, _Gods_ , those _moans_. She lived for the sound of his pleasure, greedily drawing them out so she could revel in the knowledge that she was responsible for each one. She let more of her magic pour into him, increasing the dosage until his hand clamped tightly around her wrist, jerking her palm back as he tore his lips away.

“Stop,” he gasped abruptly, a hint of panic in his voice.

Isii froze, her brows lifting in concern. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he panted, shaking his head, his eyes half-lidded as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Quite the opposite, actually,” he added somewhat sheepishly. His hips shifted and that’s when she noticed the rather significant bulge straining against the fly of his jeans.

_Oh._

She eased her hand from his grasp, running tentative fingers along the few buttons of his shirt that remained secured. “I could help you with that, you know,” she whispered, letting her hand fall lower, gently palming his erection through the denim. His eyes closed as he let out a shaky breath, his hips lifting reflexively into her touch. Isii leaned forward again, kissing his neck as she massaged him with her hand, curiously trying to get a sense of his size through the dense cloth.

“You don’t have to,” he said haltingly.

She laughed warmly, pulling back far enough to look down at him. “I know that, Solas,” she said, giving him a squeeze, watching his features strain against the added pressure. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

But she could see that same guarded quality returning to his face, uncertainty mixing with desire and her expression softened. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just…”

“It’s been a long time,” she finished for him. He nodded. She leaned down, kissing his brow as her fingers curled testingly around the buckle of his belt. “How long?”

“Ages,” he said, letting out a quiet, vulnerable huff of laughter as she loosened the leather strap.

“Then we’ll take this slow,” she whispered, brushing a soft kiss onto the base of his ear. “Just relax.” He watched as she unbuttoned his jeans, dragging down the zipper, his eyes shifting between her face and her hand as she pulled down the elastic of his underwear. She let her eyes fall to his lap, studying the thick length that strained up toward his navel, her fingers lightly brushing over the underside of his shaft. He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as she wrapped her fingers firmly around its base. He was impossibly hard against her palm, lazy strokes sliding languidly over velvety, warm skin as he slowly rocked his hips, pushing into the channel her fingers created. She slicked a bead of precum with her thumb, relishing the sound he made as she circled it around the head of his cock, his lip pinched tightly between his teeth. Isii took an almost selfish delight in doing this. There was something so deliciously satisfying in giving pleasure - due in no small part to the fact that she was fairly well-assured that she was good at it.

Their position was restrictive, however. She could only use one hand on him while she propped herself up with the other. She squirmed a bit, shifting further down the length of the couch as her kisses trailed along his chest. “Come on,” she whispered, releasing her grip before tugging on his arm. “Sit up for me.”

He obeyed her instruction, letting her guide him until she was kneeling on the floor between his knees. She took his shaft in both hands, rolling him gently between her palms as her thumbs drew slow circles against the base of his head. He let out a low groan, his eyes closing once more. She could tell this wouldn’t take long - her magic had left him sensitive, keyed up and ready for release and the slow pace of her strokes were bringing him closer and closer to the edge.  

“Feel good?” she purred. He hummed in affirmation and she smiled to herself, generously wetting her lips.

_You’re about to feel a lot better._

She felt his muscles tense as her lips curled around the head of his cock, listening to his shocked breath as she eased her mouth downward, her hands still massaging his length. When she glanced up his eyes were open wide, watching her intently. She held his gaze with her own, practically grinning around him as she took her time, her tongue swiping deliberately against the sensitive skin. His hands clenched and released against the couch and she reached out, loosening one of the balled-up fists at his side before placing it against the back of her head. Most men would take this as an invitation to take control but he simply held on, weaving his fingers through strands of her hair, letting her set her own pace. She pulled back, licking broad strokes along his length so there would be nothing but slick friction when she slid him back inside, relaxing her throat as she pressed her head down as far as she could go. He cursed sharply in Elvhen, fingers tightening against her scalp as she groaned, pulsing her throat around him.

“Isii-” he gasped as she pulled back again, pressing him into another long, deep thrust. “If you… if you don’t stop… I’m going to…” The words trailed away in a series of harsh breaths, his body shuddering beneath her.

She had no intention of stopping.

She quickened her pace, flattening her palm against the base of his stomach, summoning once more. This time he couldn’t offer a warning, his back arching, hips lifting instinctively as his muscles tensed, an incoherent sound erupting from his throat as warmth flooded her mouth. She stilled until the twitching in his cock subsided, giving him a long, slow suck as she cleaned him off. He hissed a strained breath between his teeth until she released him, swallowing as she offered him a grin. Isii reached for her drink, taking a sip before wiping her swollen lips casually against the back of her hand.

“Better?” she asked.

Solas answered by dragging her up into his lap, crushing his lips against hers as his hands grasped her hips. He palmed her ass, squeezing as he pulled her closer, forcing her to straddle his thigh. “I take it you liked that?” she breathed against his lips, giggling.

“I’m very eager to return the favor,” he murmured, the words pooling in a hard pulse between her legs.

She flattened her palm against his chest, kissing him lightly on the lips. “There’s no rush,” she whispered. “As much as I’d love for you to reciprocate, that’s not why I did it. Just relax for a bit. Enjoy the afterglow.”

Solas held her close as he pressed lazy kisses onto her throat. “You are extraordinary, Isii.”

“Mmm. Is this the part where I get post-blow job compliments?” she teased. “Cause I am totally willing to take advantage of all that oxytocin you’re swimming in right now.”

Solas laughed softly, resting his brow against the crook of her neck. “That’s not what this is.” He paused, letting out a slow breath as she stroked her fingers idly along his shoulders. “I never thought I would meet someone like you. I’m not certain what it is that makes you so different, but…”

“Solas.” Isii smiled, her head tilting to the side. “I’m not that special.”

He pulled back to look at her. “You are,” he said, brushing his thumb along the hollow of her cheek. His eyes carried a strange weight to them that she didn’t understand, but she could tell that this wasn’t some form of idle, post-orgasmic flattery. He meant every word, wholeheartedly. “You may not see it, but I do. I’ve lived so much of my life in dreams, Isii. You’re one of the only things that has made me want to stay awake.”

For a brief moment, it felt like all the air had left the room. Isii leaned down, kissing him again, occupying her lips so she didn’t have to worry about what she was supposed to say to that. Her instincts told her to deflect with humor, but any joke she could make seemed tasteless compared to his sincerity. It would be so much easier if she could just treat this as some casual fling, some temporary dalliance with an outsider where she could sate her curiosity and then move on. But it was obvious that his feelings went much deeper than that.

And if she was being perfectly honest, hers did too.

His hands slowly crept upwards, his palms warming her skin as they slid beneath her sweater. When he pulled it gently she offered no resistance, lifting her arms so he could slip the garment over her head. He took in the sight of her, his fingers soon following the same trail as he cupped the curve of her bra, his lips tracing her collarbone. “Ina’lan’ehn,” he whispered reverently, as if she was something truly precious, as if her body was a gift that he treasured. One hand splayed against the small of her back, his magic caressing her once more as she shuddered, squirming against his thigh.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” she asked, her breaths quickening.

“No,” he murmured before scraping his teeth against her throat, his fingers pinching at the clasp of her bra.

“Do you want to spend the night?”

“I’d love nothing more,” he breathed into her ear before nipping at its base, fluttering his tongue along its length. Isii moaned, tilting her head. His mouth was clearly skilled beyond simply kissing, her lashes fluttering as her breaths drew short, his tongue laving over her ear with just the right amount of pressure. Her toes curled against the edge of the couch, her eyes closing but soon his lips grew stilted, hovering distractedly as he fiddled unsuccessfully with her bra’s closure.

She giggled, leaning her head down to kiss his neck. “Need some help with that?”

“They didn’t used to be so complicated,” he muttered, displeased. She laughed, the weight of the moment lessening somewhat as she looped her hands behind her back and pulled the hooks loose. She slipped it off and watched as he gazed at her breasts, smiling to himself before he bowed his head, kissing an unhurried path along the generous swells of soft flesh. Isii moaned into a sigh, her head falling back as her nipples tightened, goosebumps prickling her skin in response to his slow exploration. Long fingers skimmed over one of the hardened buds as his head dipped lower, loosely dragging his lips against its opposite. Her breaths stuttered as she reflexively jerked, his other hand supporting her back as he gently pulled her forward, holding her against the warm caress of his mouth. Liquid heat pulsed through her as one hand cautiously slid beneath her skirt, skimming her thigh. She arched into his touch, whimpering as his fingers brushed against the damp, thin cloth over her slit.

Solas let out a harsh sigh as she rocked her hips against his hand. “You’re so wet…”

“Are you surprised?” she asked with a breathless laugh, lowering her head so she could flick her tongue along his ear. “Sucking you off will do that to me.”

A growl pressed between his teeth, the sound making her shiver as he pushed her underwear aside, dipping his fingers between her folds. Solas took his time, tracing the length of her slit, earning a cooing whimper for his efforts as he teased slickened fingers over her clit. His lips returned to her chest, his tongue lazily laving over goosebumped skin, each caress making her pulse throb that much harder under his touch. Isii squirmed impatiently and he took her silent command. Two of those long, elegant fingers filled her, his thumb slick with her arousal as he rubbed her clit, her muscles tightening around him. The hand on her back lowered, pressing her hips forward, urging her to rock against his fingers. Isii moaned as she rode his hand, his magic starting to stir as a low pulse deep inside her as he found her g-spot.

“Oh Gods, right there,” she breathed heavily.

“Does that feel good?”

Her cunt clenched as he rasped over her g-spot again, adding more pressure as his fingers curled. Her voice wavered. “Do you really need to ask?”

“It has been a long time since I’ve done this,” he said softly. “Perhaps I have forgotten how to do it properly.” The smile he pressed against her breast didn’t seem to hold a trace of uncertainty however, made all the more smug as she whined, chewing hard on her lip.

“I’d say you’re doing just fine,” she gasped, writhing as his magic surged, overwhelming her senses. White-hot pleasure pooled in her limbs, her body trembling in response as she let out a startled cry, gripping his shoulders tightly.

“Hamin,” he whispered as he felt her tense up. “I’ve got you.”

She realized then that the spell he’d used before was merely a kiss, a caress, a slow seduction - but now his mana blazed through her veins, twisting and merging with her own. The raw sensation was more intense than she’d imagined, her heart racing as her breaths drew short, a sharp, electric feeling blossoming in her core. Sparks danced across her skin, her own magic manifesting without will or thought as Isii tucked her face against his shoulder, her body curling inward under the pressure building inside her. His free hand went to the nape of her neck, pulling gently.

“No,” he murmured. “I want to see you.”

Isii lifted her head, looking down at him as he studied her face, witnessing the result of his efforts - her eyes half-lidded, her lips parted around shuddering moans. He brought her to climax startlingly fast, launched into the peak of orgasm without any warning as she choked back a sob, the torrent inside her raging in such stark contrast to the painstakingly slow pace of his hand. He continued to move, fingers curved and rubbing again and again over that same, exquisite spot. Her hips jerked reflexively to the overstimulation but the hand on her back soothed her, holding her close, a smile spreading over his lips.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, a touch of awe in his tone. “That was beautiful, vhenan.”

That word again - _vhenan_ , spoken with such gentle earnestness that the sound itself sent a shiver through her. Isii grasped the sides of his face, struggling to catch her breath as she crushed their mouths together. His hand looped behind her knee, tugging her legs wider, dragging her fully across his lap before pulling her hips flush with his own, his cock trapped against her slit. He was hard again, his fingers pulling aside her underwear so he could rub his length along her slickened lips.

“Ready again so soon?” she panted, her brows lifting. “That was quick.”

Solas simply smiled, his hands guiding her hips, forcing her to rock against him. “They say that in Elvhenan, lovers used to indulge in one another for days at a time. Weeks, _months_ , if they so desired.” His head tilted slightly, his lips brushing against her jaw. “I wonder how much of that I can fit into a single night.”

Isii laughed breathlessly, the sound soon caught in a groan as the friction sent shocks of pleasure singing from her clit. “Sounds rather ambitious,” she purred, smirking. “Most men talk a big game, but after one or two rounds, they just want to go to sleep.”

“I’m not like most men,” he whispered, his mouth pressed close to her ear. “I don’t have any intention of stopping until you demand it.” His hands tightened on her hips, urging her to lift herself up but she pressed a hand onto his chest.

“Wait,” she said, trying to blink back the haze of her desire for a moment. “Do you have protection?” He stilled beneath her, his brow furrowing slightly as he peered up at her. “Condoms?”

His lips parted as embarrassed understanding washed over his features, his grasp on her hips loosening. “No,” he admitted, shaking his head. “No, I… I didn’t think…”

“Damn,” she muttered, her head dropping to his shoulder. “I should have thought of this earlier.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No, no, you’re fine,” she said. It really wasn’t his fault. She just as easily could have bought some ahead of time. She hadn’t exactly been planning on their movie night being waylaid by sex, though she was certainly happy that it had. She took a breath, trying to clear her head. “We can go get some if you want. Or just… do other things tonight. Or…”

She bit down on her lip.

_Well._

Normally, Isii wouldn’t consider forgoing condoms with a new partner. She hadn’t been worried about it in terms of oral sex. He had healing magic, so she supposed she was fairly safe with him in that regard. Even if that assumption was wrong, all it would take was calling in a rather embarrassing favor with Anders and the issue could be cleared up. The risks were relatively low.

“We could go without, if you want to,” she offered. “I’m on birth control.” It hadn’t ever failed her before. It definitely would be better to have this conversation when his cock wasn’t pressed up against her, when they weren’t both so eager to feel him inside her, but it was either now or never. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

Solas paused, considering before nodding. “Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “If… If you’re comfortable with that.”

Isii smiled softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto his lips. “Alright,” she said, taking a breath. “Responsible adult conversations aside…” She shifted her hips, crawling back until she could plant her feet on the floor, taking him gently by the arm. “The couch is a little cramped, don’t you think? My bed will give us a lot more room to work with.”

He grinned, tucking himself away as he rose to his feet, dragging her closer before slating his mouth over her own. She giggled, a light and airy sound as she pulled away, eagerly tugging him by his shirt, the pair of them staggering in an uncoordinated attempt to keep their hands and lips on each other as they made their way down the hall.

They never did finish the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION:  
> Ina’lan’ehn - beautiful  
> Hamin - relax
> 
>  In case no one caught it, the film they're watching is a reference to my [Facing the Wolf](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3223286/chapters/7016759)/[Casual Dalliance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4276929) AU. Just tweaked a bit so it wasn't quite so on-the-nose.
> 
>  
> 
> _Quick personal note - I've talked about it a bit on tumblr, but I am currently going through a very rough patch with my family. My father is in the hospital, suffering through a very shaky recovery from surgery that's running into a lot of complications we weren't ready to face. I'm not abandoning any of my writing projects, but my posting times may be delayed simply because it's really difficult for me to focus with as much stress as we're all under right now._


	25. Discoveries

Fingertips brushed lazily against her cheek, drawing her senses slowly into consciousness. Isii woke gradually, one eye peeking open before closing again, a groggy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Hello, baker.”

“Hello, lan’sila,” Solas answered warmly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough,” he murmured. The bed shifted beside her, his lips caressing her forehead as she hummed. “I considered getting up, but I found I was enjoying watching you sleep.”

“Not that that’s weird or anything,” she teased, yawning.

He chuckled. “It has been a long time since I’ve woken up with someone beside me. I wanted to savor the moment.” She scooted her body closer, sighing as his arms fell comfortably around her, the bare skin of his chest warming her cheek. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this content. Her body ached but it was a comforting feeling - a small souvenir from the night before.

And what a night it had been.

She wasn’t certain what she’d been expecting, exactly. She’d thought that maybe Solas’s more reserved nature would reflect in his behavior as a lover - something slow and equally as hesitant as all the cautious gestures he’d made before. But he hadn’t been kidding when he said he wouldn’t stop until she demanded it. Despite his age, he seemed to have the drive of a teenager, once he felt he had permission to act on the urge. He _had_ been single for a while. Apparently he was determined to make up for lost time.

She giggled lightly at that thought and his arm tightened against her back. “What’s so amusing?”

“Nothing,” she purred, craning her head up to look at him. “Just happy.”

“Good,” he said, angling his lips down to meet hers. “I thoroughly enjoy making you happy.”

She grinned, walking her fingers along his chest. “And what would make me _really_ happy right now is some breakfast,” she said before rolling over, shuffling out from under the covers. She grabbed a hair tie from her nightstand, balling her unruly mane of curls into something more manageable. “My kitchen is running a little low on supplies right now, but there’s a really nice diner that’s a short walk from here.” She watched him get out of bed on the other side, openly admiring his bare form. “You down?”

“As you wish,” he said, slipping his retrieved underwear over his hips. She went about getting a fresh set of clothes while he hunted down the various articles he’d been wearing the night before. It was fairly comical, seeing how widely they’d been tossed about in their haste to get naked. Her bra and sweater were still somewhere in the living room, her skirt abandoned in the hallway. Thankfully most of his evening wardrobe had actually made it into her bedroom.

He was pulling his shirt from the top of her dresser when she heard a loud clunk, turning her attention toward him as she fastened her jeans. Solas stooped down to pick up the picture frame he’d knocked to the floor, pausing to study it. “Is this you and your parents?” he asked, angling the picture toward her.

Her throat tightened slightly as she looked at the familiar photograph - Isii as a toddler, squirming in her father’s arms while he kissed her cheek, her mother smiling broadly at the camera. She nodded stiffly. Solas’s gaze went back to the picture and his smile was so warm, so fond that it made her chest hurt. “You were adorable.”

She let out a tense laugh. “Thanks.”

“Your resemblance to your mother is quite striking.”

“Yeah,” Isii said sadly, pulling a faded blouse off its hanger. “I’ve heard that a lot.”

Solas didn’t seem to notice the shift in her mood, setting the frame back into place as he shrugged his shirt over his shoulders. “Did you get a chance to visit with them when you were back in the Marches?” Her silence caught his attention as she quietly buttoned up her shirt, her eyes downcast. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all.” He peered at her curiously, disbelieving despite the smile she forced onto her lips. She pressed a brief kiss onto his shoulder before turning toward her door. “Gimme a sec to freshen up and then we can head out.”

Thankfully he seemed content not to press the issue.

By the time she was through with her morning routine, Isii found Solas waiting for her in the living room, engrossed with whatever was on his phone.

“Something up?” she asked, fishing her keys out of her purse.

He shook his head distractedly. “Just checking my email. Apparently your friends Anders and Mariah have decided to use my services for their wedding.”

“Oh?”

“We had a rather pleasant cake tasting earlier this week. It seems they were satisfied with the results.”

“I’m glad,” she said, opening her door as she ushered him into the hallway. “I was kind of pushing them to hire you.”

“I’m well aware,” he said, watching as she locked up. “Your sales tactics at the party weren’t exactly subtle.”

“It’s all a part of my master plan,” Isii teased, looping her arm with his own. “This way I don’t have to worry about finding a plus one.”

***

Winter came gently to Val Royeaux as the city made the last of its preparations for the Conference. The crisp nights of autumn slowly slipped into the cooler chill, the streets gradually blanketed with light drifts of snow. As much as Isii hated the cold, she didn’t mind as she walked with Solas at her side, warming their hands around cups of hot chocolate as they watched the flakes dance lazily through the air. Their dates became regular events, playing the role of tourists in their own city as they explored places she’d never took the time to visit before. Gazing at monuments and listening to him recount the events surrounding them. Nighttime strolls through the park while they listed the constellations and the mythologies behind them. Browsing museums when the weather was too harsh and debating the finer qualities of art throughout the ages. More often than not, they would find themselves back at her place afterwards, indulging in one another to chase away the cold. Their nights were spent dreaming as he wove the very essence of the Fade into visions of his choosing, showing her all manner of sights she’d never seen before. Ancient temples brimming with life. Banquet halls and revelries. Dragons and gryphons and creatures she had no names for. It was more than she had ever imagined - an entire world of memories that he uncovered for her to witness.

As happy as those dreams made her, it couldn’t compare to how much joy he seemed to take in having someone to finally share them with.

The way Solas looked at her, the way he touched her - there were moments where he seemed truly overwhelmed. Times when he acted as if he had to remind himself that she was real. He rarely said such things aloud, but she could see it all the same. The way his smile broadened. The way his eyes brightened. Isii had never had someone look at her the way he did. Never felt such an intense weight behind such small, wordless gestures.

It felt incredible to be so loved. To have something so real. So tangible.

No matter how many times he said _ar lath ma_ , she never once tired of hearing it.

***

“Left some hot water for me?”

“One would hope,” Solas replied, still securing the towel at his waist as he stepped into Isii’s bedroom. He reached for his overnight bag, setting it on the bed as his fingers found the zipper. Her hands crept around his waist as she hummed happily, her lips brushing between his shoulder blades.

“It really is too bad I don’t have a shower big enough for two,” she purred, teasing her nails against the edge of the towel. “I think that would make for a wonderful way to start the day.”

“Then perhaps we’re overdue for an evening at my place,” he said as he caught her hand, bringing it to his lips as he turned to face her. “I assure you, it is more than large enough to accommodate.”

“Is that so?” she asked, smiling broadly as she leaned up to kiss him, nipping playfully at his lips. He looped an arm behind her back, pulling her flush with his body as he deepened the embrace. She melted against him so quickly, so willingly, but as soon as he stepped back toward the bed she was squirming, laughing against his mouth and trying to pull away. “No, no,” she said firmly, though the breathless quality of those words made it clear she was willing herself to resist the urge to take him up on the unspoken offer. “I need to shower or I’m going to be late for work.”

She drew away from him, glancing over her shoulder as she lingered by her doorway. “But you’re on. Next time, we’re going to your place. And you can show me this amazing shower of yours.”

He watched her disappear into the hallway before returning to his bag, pulling out a clean set of clothing. He was quite enjoying this newfound routine. He was spending his evenings at her place often enough that packing a bag for the night had become second nature. True, it would be more convenient if he could simply keep some spare clothing at her place - but that was a subject he would not broach without invitation. There was an odd domesticity to it, despite the fact that he did not live there. Her home felt more and more familiar each time he entered it.

His cellphone’s ringtone drew him from his thoughts and he retrieved it from his discarded laundry, casting a glance at the caller ID before answering. “Greetings, Sera.”

“Ey, boss man. Got some news for ya. Unless you’re too busy banging your girlfriend on a pool table.”

His pleasant mood quickly evaporated. “We weren’t-” He stopped himself, his eyes closing as he let out a harsh sigh. “That jest is growing tiresome. It has been nearly two months now. I think you are in desperate need of new material.”

“Imma keep saying it as long as it keeps twisting your niblets.”

“Get to the point, Sera.”

“So you know about that _super secret, hush hush, don’t ask me where I got this_ encrypted government shit you shoved on me a while back?”

“You mean the files Briala’s people couldn’t manage to crack?”

“Yeah. Well, first off, that was a load of bullshit.”

“Were you not able to access them?”

“Accessing them was fine. That was the easy part, but sorting through all that crap was an absolute slog. Most of it is useless, far as I can tell. Internal memos, nothin’ interesting. But I did manage to dig up a little about the mysterious shipments you people seem to have your panties bunched up about.”

“And?”

“The shipments are being signed off by a Duke Prosper de Montfort. No info on what the ships are carrying, exactly, but there are a lot of them. And they’re coming in from Tevinter.”

“Tevinter?” Solas echoed, his brow furrowing. _Strange._ It could simply be a smuggling ring greasing the palms of a corrupt official to move product into the black market - not quite the sort of conspiracy Briala hoped to uncover. Tevinter was a known source for various luxuries, not to mention a steady supplier of illicitly obtained elvhen antiquities, all of which were in demand among certain circles in the southern nations of Thedas. But going into direct competition with the Carta came with its own substantial risks. Such actions would not be taken lightly, even in the pursuit of profit.

“I did a little extra work, too. Which, you know, I expect to get paid for. Handsomely.”

“Go on.”

“I hacked Prosper’s email to see if there was anything useful. Government accounts don’t come cheap, you know. It, like, doubles my rate.”

“I’m more than willing to pay, as long as what you found is actually of worth.”

“Oh this is _of worth_ , alright. You wanna know what they’re shipping in? Cause I’ve got a message here saying the next one is arriving tonight. Time and place. All that. Still no word on what exactly the deal is, but I figure your money would start talking for that little tidbit.”

Solas glanced over to Isii’s nightstand, quickly scanning it for a pen and paper. “Alright, tell me where and when and I’ll make certain your next paycheck reflects your recent efforts.” He listened carefully as she listed off the information, jotting it down. “Very well. I will need you to take my morning shift in the bakery tomorrow.”

“What?” she squawked. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I will most likely have a very late night.”

“And you can drag your sorry old ass out of bed and-”

“ _Sera_.”

She sighed loudly into the phone. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it, alright? But you’d better add an extra zero to whatever you’re paying me next time around.”

“I will make certain you are compensated for the inconvenience,” he said patiently. “Try not to burn anything.”

“I make no promises,” she said before abruptly ending the call.

***

Solas slumped down into his seat, his car falling silent as he turned off the engine. Though parked at a fair distance, he could still see the truck he’d tailed, the tall chain link fence between them offering no obstruction as he watched two men clamber out of the cab. They made quick work of retrieving their cargo: the same wooden crate he’d seen them take from a ship docked only a few miles away from where they now unloaded it. Their destination was not a particularly interesting one - a small gravel-covered yard that contained a few large shipping containers, a guard shack, and little else.

The crate was moved with some care, however. Simply watching the men work told him that whatever was contained inside was likely fragile as well as heavy. They deposited their loot into one of the freight containers, sealing it away before strolling toward the only building on the premises.

Solas waited for the two men to move out of sight before quietly slipping out of his car. He kept his head down, a hood tugged low over his face as he approached. The fence was easy enough to scale over and he let himself fall, knees bent as he landed, his eyes fixed on the guard shack. Once he was certain he had not been detected, he quietly made his way over to the abandoned container, manipulating the lock with a deft brush of magic until the door swung freely for him.

The dim light offered no hinderance as he peered inside, greeted by a series of similarly-shaped crates. He quickly went to work, prying the closest open as he listened for any footsteps outside. The contents had been packed with straw, his hands carefully brushing it away, eyes widening as he uncovered a smooth sphere of mottled marble, marred only by the familiar geometry jutting from its sides.

An elvhen artifact. One of _his_ elvhen artifacts.

Solas froze, staring down at it as his brow furrowed. His hesitation was only temporary. He moved swiftly to the next crate, then the next, each of them confirming his suspicions.

Each crate held one of the spheres he had once used to stabilize the Veil during its creation - devices spread out across Thedas that held the boundary’s energy like a net, stretching and supporting it as the barrier fell into place. By his count, there were roughly twenty crates there, each identical in size and shape, suggesting their contents were likely the same.  

_What in the Void are these doing here?_

“ _Fasta vass,_ fuck this country.” Solas lifted his head, startled by the gruff sound of a man’s voice in the distance, gravel shifting as a door swung closed. _The guard shack._ “I swear, I’m freezing my balls off here. My heating spell isn’t working for shit.”

“Just be glad Ferelden’s not hosting the Conference,” his companion muttered. “The Dog Lord’s winters make this look like a damn spring day. The Elder One had me stomping around the Hinterlands looking for these damn things before reassigning me here. Not my idea of a holiday, that’s for certain.” The footsteps grew louder as Solas crept quickly toward the opening of the container, listening as his eyes scanned his escape route. There was no time to close the crates and seal the container as he had intended. A quick dash across the yard, then scrambling over the fence, bolting for his car…

They were going to spot him. That much was unavoidable. And at least one of the two men was a mage.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself for a moment before throwing his body forward as fast as his legs would carry him. He ignored the shouts of alarm that echoed behind him, reaching the fence just as he felt the first sharp tug against the Veil, magic being summoned in his wake. There was no time to stop, to analyze the attack he knew was oncoming as he grasped the highest point of the chain link that he could reach. He launched himself upward, tugging roughly against the metal as he jumped with all the force he could muster.

Then, he fade stepped.

The maneuver was not as controlled as he would have liked. Fade stepping along the ground was like skimming over ice, but using that same force to move vertically was more akin to being shot out of a cannon. His body jerked reflexively as he quickly dropped the spell, trying his best not to sail too far while his hand blindly groped for the top bar of the fence. His fingers made contact and it was just enough to jerk himself forward, flying over the edge of the barrier just as a blast of ice rattled the supports below, pushing through the fence to form a slick pool at its base. The mage behind him cursed loudly as his attack missed its mark, Solas tightening his form and rotating into the impact as he fell. Gravity had a hold of him now and there was no avoiding the icy patch, the cold stinging his skin as he landed. He slid as he rolled onto his feet, using the slick surface to further his momentum as he dashed into the street.  

His car was not far - but he was lacking cover and the chain link offered little resistance to his pursuers casting another magical attack his way. Hoping to buy himself a little time, he summoned. Fire would do more harm, but the chill air would dampen the heat as soon as it left his hands. Frost gathered along his fingertips and he risked a sharp turn, dragging his arms upward. Ice rose and hardened by his will, curling around the fence behind him, solidifying a wall seconds before a reddened blast slammed harmlessly into it.

_Blood magic._

He did not wait to see what they would do next, their shouts falling on deaf ears as he raced toward his car, scrambling to drag the keys from his pocket. His thumb found the key fob, the doors clicking loudly as the locks disengaged and he hauled himself inside, starting up the engine, his tires screeching as he raced down the road.

Not the most stealthy exit, but it would suffice.

Solas steadied his breaths, his eyes repeatedly flicking toward his mirrors in search of a pursuit. The roads were helpfully empty on account of the late hour and the remote location, so he did not worry about lowering his speed until he drew closer to the center of the city. He was fairly certain he’d made a clean getaway. The dim lighting, along with a convenient wall of ice, had probably kept them from seeing either his face or the car he’d thrown himself into. His hood remained up and Solas was not so slight of frame or short enough for them to rule out the possibility that they’d seen a human prowler. Even though he did not see anyone following him, he took a surreptitious route home, just to be safe.

His mind worked over what one of the men had said before he ran:

_Just be glad Ferelden’s not hosting the Conference._

The Conference was the reason they were here, smuggling a collection of his artifacts into the country. But why? What possible purpose could they serve? His thumb tapped mindlessly against his steering wheel as he tried to see the connection. Did they simply have a buyer who was going to be in town for the event?

He wanted to tell himself that this was nothing more than a black market antiquities exchange. That some collector with an interest in Elvhenan was using the Conference as a distraction - after all, all eyes would be focused on the event itself. The authorities they’d normally have to concern themselves with would be otherwise occupied.

It made sense, but something about it did not ring true.

He was the only man alive who knew their true purpose; how they tied directly into the energy of the Veil when active. Set far apart, spread as they were originally intended, they were harmless. They did little more than ward against any strain. But so many of them brought together…

Solas tried to brush the thought aside. It was impossible. He had determined it was impossible ages ago, when he finally abandoned his futile efforts to compensate for the loss of his orb. True, the artifacts tapped directly into the energy of the Veil, but without anything to harness that energy, to direct it to a purpose, they provided little more than a light show. The anchor had a sharpness that would cut with precision, a combination of immense energy and a narrow outlet. The artifacts themselves could only provide half of that equation.

He was making a rash judgement out of fear. Nothing more. After all, he was the only one who knew how they worked.

Theoretically.

When he stopped at a light, he fished his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick message to Briala, unconcerned about the late hour.

**_Tell me everything your people know about a man who calls himself The Elder One._ **

When she finally responded, the news was anything but good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Personal Note - Thanks to those of you who sent well-wishes. Unfortunately my father never made it out of the hospital - his death is the reason I've been on hiatus in terms of writing. I'm doing ok, or as ok as I can be, and I'm not certain how frequently I'll be updating my stories from here on out. But I do intend to finish them. Thank you for your support. It really does mean a lot to me._


	26. 317

Isii was worried that maybe she had the wrong address.

She looked at her phone one more time, flipping between the text Solas had sent her and the navigation app she’d used to track her cab’s progress as they drove across the city. The address was right, but surely they were too far north.

Technically, elves could freely live anywhere in the city. Orlais abolished alienage laws decades ago. Even so, this wasn’t the sort of neighborhood she’d expect an elf who ran a humble little bakery to live in. From what she could see, it was all heavily renovated, old commercial spaces remodeled into trendy urban residences with little overpriced bohemian boutiques and specialty shops nestled among them. It wasn’t exactly the gated communities of the ultra rich found on the far northside of Val Royeaux, but it certainly wasn’t anything like the street she lived on.

His building looked significantly older than the rest. Raindrops sparkled in the dramatic exterior lighting, trickling down large panes of glass that no doubt provided sweeping views of the skyline. It was a far cry from the shabby little one bedroom she was living in, with its cracked plaster and unreliable water pressure.

Isii paid the driver, quickly darting out of the backseat as the rain poured down on her. The door into the complex was locked so she huddled in the small alcove, scanning the intercom. The text message said he was in Apartment 317 but when her eyes found the space where his name should have been, it was completely blank. Hoping she wasn’t making a fool of herself, she pressed the button beside it.

The speaker made a sickly crackling sound before falling silent once more.  

_Well, shit._

She pressed it again, leaning in close to where she hoped there was a microphone.

“Solas?”

Nothing.

She hugged her coat tighter, her breath steaming in the cold. The temperature was only barely warm enough to keep the rain from freezing. Val Royeaux’s beautiful coating of fluffy white snow was now transforming into a grey, depressing slush. Isii stamped in place, trying to chase away the chill. She desperately hoped the weather improved by the time the Conference began. With barely over a week left, she was having visions of the icy roads and traffic jams she’d have to put up with in order to meet Deshanna and the other Dalish representatives at the airport. She thought about asking Solas to help her pick them up in his car, but the idea of putting Solas and Deshanna together in an enclosed space for any length of time made her nervous.

She still hadn’t told her Keeper about them and had no plans to change that any time soon.

She pushed the button again. “Solas? It’s Isii. I need you to buzz me in.” The speaker only sputtered in response, leaving her feeling less than confident that anyone could hear her.

She was just about to pull out her cell and call him when movement beyond the door caught her eye. A man strolled through the lobby, distractedly glancing over the handful of mail he’d retrieved. She knocked hurriedly on the glass pane in front of her, certain she looked rather pathetic shivering on the front stoop as he took in the sight of her. Coarse fingers scratched at his beard as he paused to consider, eventually striding over and reaching for the handle.

“Oh gods, thank you,” she said, shuffling over the floor mat before carefully stepping onto the pale marble tiles.

“I’d ask if you forgot your key,” the stranger started, frowning down at her, “but I suspect I would have noticed you earlier if you lived here.”

“I’m visiting one of the residents,” she answered quickly, peeling her gloves off. “At least, I think I am. This is the address he gave me.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he said with a shrug. “The intercom’s been on the blink for about a week now. Fair chance your friend would’ve had to come downstairs and get you.” He gestured toward the hallway at the end of the lobby. “I’m headed up myself. Might as well walk you to the lift.”

“Thank you...um…”

“Blackwall,” he answered as she wordlessly fished for his name.

“Blackwall?” she asked, her head tilting. “Just Blackwall?”

“That’s my preference.”

“How very pop star of you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Gordon Blackwall, technically. Only… it never really felt right to go by Gordon.”

“Don’t really feel like the name fits you?”

“You could say that,” he muttered, frowning.

Isii studied the stranger as she followed him down the hallway, standing beside him in awkward silence as they waited for the elevator. He was not the tallest human she’d ever encountered, but there was a general sense of largeness to him that made her elven frame feel tiny by comparison. He had broad shoulders and a thick trunk of a torso, though the bit of forearm exposed by his rolled-up sleeves suggested there was probably a lot of strength under that extra padding. He had a kind face, though, beneath the long, dark beard.

He cleared his throat, searching for a way to break the silence. “Looks like it’s right miserable out there, considering the way you’re shivering.”

“It’s not a nice night for a stroll, I’ll give you that,” she admitted.

“Damn weather,” he grumbled as the doors to the elevator opened. He gestured for her to enter and he followed her in. “One day it’s a deep freeze, the next everything is melting off. What floor you need?”

“Three, I think.”

He pressed the buttons for two different floors, watching as the doors slid closed. “Soon it’s going to be an ice rink out there and that’ll make for a fun time, considering how the citizens of Val Royeaux drive like half-blind maniacs on a good day. And you’re not exactly dressed for it now, are you?”

“Not really, no,” she answered self-consciously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Isii was very obviously prepared for a date in impractical heels and a skirt that was so short it was completely hidden by her winter coat. If her outfit didn’t give her away, her large overnight bag probably made her reason for being there pretty clear.

“Mind me asking who the lucky gentleman is? Or lady,” he corrected. “Not trying to be nosy. Just curious on account of the fact that I’m not technically allowed to let strangers in.”

“Solas,” she answered. When the man showed no hints of recognition, she continued. “Um… Elven man. Bald…”

“Ooh,” he muttered, nodding. “Quiet type. Tends to keep to himself?”

“That sounds about right,” she said with a laugh.

“I’ve seen him around the building. Mostly just coming and going.”

An awkward silence settled between them once more as they watched the lights overhead indicate the different floors. “Since we’re being nosy,” Isii began, idly smoothing out the wrinkles in her coat. “I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t sound like a local.”

“That’s right,” he said, somewhat hesitantly.

“You’re a Marcher, aren’t you?”

The man frowned, thick brows pulling tightly together. “I’m from Markham, originally.”

“Ah! I was going to guess that. That, or maybe Ostwick.” Isii smiled fondly. “My clan lived around there for a time, when I was younger. Moved through Markham before settling by Wycome.”

“Is that so?” he asked, peering at her. “I wouldn’t’ve guessed, the way you talk.”

“The Dalish do tend to have their own sort of brogue, I’ll grant you that.”

The elevator stopped and he held the doors open for her as she stepped out. “Hope you have a good evening, Miss...”

“Isii,” she replied with a smile. “It was nice meeting you, Blackwall. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

“A nice thought, that.” Blackwall let the elevator close, taking one more appraising look at Isii before disappearing from sight.

It wasn’t long before she was standing in front of Apartment 317, smiling at Solas’s bewilderment upon answering the door.

“Oh,” he muttered, frowning as he continued to wipe his hands on the kitchen towel that he clutched. “I thought I would have to buzz you in-”

“The intercom is broken.”

“My apologies,” he murmured, ushering her inside. “I wasn’t aware. Then again, I’ve never entertained guests here, so I suppose it is unsurprising that I -”

His words were quickly cut off by the press of Isii’s lips, her mouth slated over his own as she let her bag drop to the floor, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He hummed into her kiss, shoving the door closed with the weight of his body as she leaned into him.

“ _This,_ ” she breathed against his lips before crushing them again with her own, her fingers curling behind his ear, “is for those damn texts you sent me this afternoon.”

He laughed into her next kiss before pulling his mouth free. “Did you appreciate the sentiment?”

“No teasing me while I’m at work.”

“Why not?” he asked, arching a brow. “It’s not as though you haven’t intentionally sent me obscene photographs while I am at the bakery.” His hands slid down her hips, his fingertips teasing the hem of her dress. “I take it my messages… hmm, how did you put it? Offered inspiration?” he asked, squeezing a firm handful of flesh, lifting her onto her toes as she laughed.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” she purred.

His smile widened, soft and genuinely happy. “As have I.”

She captured his lips once more, tightening their embrace. Isii couldn’t explain the effect Solas had on her. It wasn’t just the thrill of new love or the ecstatic relief that came with having sex again on a regular basis. It was something else. Something beyond that. Something that made her feel like a teenager with a childish, giggling crush. Something that fluttered inside her each time she saw him, that made her nerves sing in response to even the smallest touch, that could leave her aroused to the point of distraction from little more than a few suggestive text messages. Sex was by no means the only way they chose to enjoy one another’s company - but _sweet Creators,_ it was by far one of her favorites. He truly enjoyed exploring the various ways her body experienced pleasure and it was honestly refreshing compared to past lovers.

Solas slowly undid the fastenings on her coat, slipping it from her shoulders as he kissed along the slope of her neckline. “I like this dress,” he murmured against her skin. “It compliments your eyes. As well as other assets,” he added, rucking her skirt up ever so slightly in the back so his hands could explore. Her touch grew more hurried, eager moans carried on quickening breaths, her lips on his ear, his throat, his shoulder as his touch continued to tease. It wasn’t until she began tugging at the back of his sweater, trying to yank it over his head, that Solas pulled away, chuckling.

“I should finish cooking dinner,” he said, wrestling the hem of his sweater down.

“Dinner can wait,” she said, kissing him again.

He laughed, cupping her cheek with his palm, freeing his mouth. “I invited you over for a meal…”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“On the contrary,” he said, skimming his thumb over her lip. “I would say you are famished… though that is a hunger of a different sort.” She giggled, nipping at him. “Still, you’re not going to have anything to eat otherwise. And I’d rather not have my apartment smelling like burnt pheasant.”

“Pheasant?” she echoed as he drew himself out of her embrace. “Someone is getting fancy.”

“It wasn’t precisely what I would have chosen, initially,” he said, scooping up the kitchen towel he’d carelessly dropped to the floor, “yet I felt the bird was probably closest in flavor and texture to the original.”

“Original?”

“One cannot exactly cook a creature that no longer exists,” he muttered distractedly, continuing out of the foyer. His brow furrowed, seeming somewhat hesitant. “I… saw a dish. In the Fade. Something from Elvhenan… I thought I would try to recreate it for you, if I could.”

Isii’s lips pursed around a grin, trying not to laugh as she followed him. “You are adorable.”

“I hope you’re not saying that in order to mock me.”

“No!” she stressed, grinning. “I’m serious. My boyfriend cooks me dinner for the first time and decides to make an ancient elven recipe. If I didn’t have confirmation before that you are precisely the right kind of nerd for me, I have it now.”

“I am glad to hear it. I think.”

He led her out of the narrow entry hall, the space opening up into a room that was easily larger than the entirety of her apartment. One wall had massive windows, speckled with rain, the city lights twinkling as they caught the wet glass. The floorplan was completely open, the kitchen dominating one corner of the room with only a floating island countertop separating it from the rest of the living and dining area. The modern, simple architecture seemed a bit at odds with the very lived-in space. She’d only seen rooms like this in magazines, where everything was meticulously set into place and there wasn’t a hint of clutter to be seen. Yet instead of stiff yet fashionable furniture, selected more for their aesthetic rather than their function, his apartment looked cozy, even a bit messy. He had a desk covered in papers, books stacked haphazardly on the coffee table, an old blanket thrown over the side of the worn leather couch. One wall had an odd gallery of sorts, time-worn materials chipped and cracked, their age in stark contrast to the modernity that surrounded them. The open loft overlooking the main living area was dim, but she could still see the outline of an easel and the backs of canvases propped up against the railing, a few of his paintings hanging around the room below.

“Though I would advise against getting your hopes up,” he continued, drawing her gaze toward the kitchen as he took his place by the stove. “I’m afraid I am a far better baker than I am a cook.”

“I’m sure it will be perfect,” she hummed, slipping her coat off and draping it over the arm of the couch. “If your greeting at the door was any indication, I’d bet you’ll make dessert pretty memorable either way.”

He smiled - a small, private smile that seemed adorably shy considering he’d had his hands under her skirt moments earlier. He focused on the pan in front of him, releasing a plume of steam as he lifted the lid and shifted the contents inside. “It should not be long,” he assured her. “Feel free to make yourself at home in the meantime. There is a bottle of Antivan Red that you are more than welcome to. Glasses are in the cabinet above.”

“Antivan Red being served in the heart of Val Royeaux,” Isii said with a laugh. “How very insulting to Orlesian sensibilities. I approve.”

She poured herself a glass, idly pacing through the room with each sip. “Your apartment looks really nice.”

“It serves my needs well,” he said distractedly. “I believe the building used to be a public library, once. A shame it no longer fills that purpose, but I find the thought pleasing nonetheless.”

She wandered toward the gallery wall, interested in taking a closer look at the unusual collection there. At first glance, she thought it was merely a gathering of old antiques, but properly setting her attention on it quickly banished that assumption. They weren’t merely antiques but items of antiquity, museum-quality pieces that were shocking to see in a private collection. A piece of an elven mural was set in glass and hung with care, cracked around the edges, clearly cut from the stone wall it originally graced. The figure at its center was cloaked in faded shades of green and gold, his arms outstretched beneath the chipping paint. A large paw sat in the foreground, though whatever creature it had been attached to had been cropped out of the image. Floating shelves held various trinkets, some of which she could not identify. An ancient blade, its golden sheath embedded with dark green stones. A piece of carved wood that she could only assume had once been the head of a staff. A small statuette depicting Mythal, a dragon-headed woman, her wings curving around her form. Part of an animal’s jawbone bound in leather, the cording so brittle with age that she feared it would crumble if not handled with care. The collection wasn’t entirely ancient. Not entirely elven, for that matter. It was difficult for her to discern the theme. Were these merely things that caught his interest?

More importantly, what was a collection like this doing in the apartment of a man who owned a small hole-in-the-wall bakery?

“I didn’t know you were a collector,” Isii said.

“I’ve picked up various things in my travels.” His tone was nonchalant, dismissive, as if it wasn’t strange at all that he had decorated his living room with priceless bits of antiquity. She couldn’t even fathom how much these items would bring at auction… How much he must have spent over the years to obtain them…

This was not what she was expecting.

The neighborhood, the apartment, the array of artifacts. It all spoke of money - far more money than she ever would have assumed he had and the realization made her feel strangely uncomfortable. It seemed contrary to nearly everything about him. Solas wasn't lavish or extravagant. He was plain. Gorgeous, handsome and yet wrapped up in this image of simplicity and moderation that would never make her suspect he was a man of means.

Though it did explain how he could drop a couple hundred dollars on a new phone for her and act like it was nothing.

_Your boyfriend is rich. Your boyfriend who keeps wearing the same sweater that has a hole in the shoulder because it’s “comfortable” and drives a very sensible, boring car is rich. Don’t be weird about this._

She cleared her throat, anxiously swirling her wine. “So… Solas?”

“Hmm?”

“I have to ask you something. And I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”

Solas glanced up from the countertop, his mouth twisted with amusement. “That sounds ominous.”

“How is it that an elven baker can afford an apartment like this with an insanely valuable private gallery?”

“I’d hardly call it that-”

“Come on, Solas. You’ve seen the crappy place I live in. Granted, I’m up to my ears in student loan debt, but I’m working two jobs and I can barely afford the rent there. I can’t imagine the bakery is pulling enough of an income to let you live in a place like this. And that’s not even taking into account that my boss at the museum would be absolutely salivating if he took a look at some of the things you have on display here.” She took a large swig from her glass. “Not that I care about your finances, really…”

“If you do not care, then why would you ask?” he teased gently.

“I…Ok, I _do_ care. But only because I’m curious.” She peered at him over her glass. “Is your family loaded or something? Is this some sort of trust fund thing?”

“I don’t have a family,” he replied, moving a pan off of the heat as he clicked off the burner.

He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for Isii to fully process the admission. “Oh,” she said, her voice softening. “Solas, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his brows lifting. “You have not injured me, Isii. It’s quite alright. The fact does not change depending on whether or not we speak of it.” He sampled the sauce, frowning thoughtfully before reaching into his spice cabinet. “As for my finances… It’s merely the result of careful investment. I have had a lot of time to collect interest on what was once a moderate amount of money. My expenses are generally very low. I could easily close the shop if I wanted and continue to live comfortably for quite some time. This apartment is a slight extravagance, I will grant you that. In truth, I rented it primarily because it was one of the first availabilities I found when I moved here. That and the view suited me.”

“So the bakery is more of a hobby?”

“It’s something to keep myself occupied. I find that time passes more quickly when I have a suitable distraction.”

“But why baking?”

“I started on a whim. I wanted to recreate certain indulgences I could no longer find. Recipes that are not commonly produced as they once were. I have always been partial to sweets, so baking seemed a logical place to start. Eventually my private experimentations led to opening a small shop.” He shrugged as he sprinkled a few dashes of seasoning into the mixture. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” His eyes met her own as he smiled. “Considering that it was the means by which we met, I would say that opening the bakery was easily one of the best decisions I have ever made.”

Isii’s grin widened as she bit her lip, casting her gaze back to the wall of trinkets and oddities. She studied them quietly, enjoying her wine as she tried to imagine the sorts of secrets this collection would hold for her if she had some lyrium on hand. If she could move consciously through the Fade, focusing her intent on any one of these objects, who knows what she would find? The mere thought of it set her skin to tingling. There was likely so much knowledge hidden away here, right at her fingertips, without the need to conveniently “borrow” items from the museum or university.

She made a silent note to talk to Varric. Maybe he had another shipment for Anders that could conveniently lose a few vials.

Her eyes settled on a rounded piece of carved stone set on a high shelf. The ridges cut into it swirled in a somewhat organic fashion, much like a fingerprint, though the pattern was marred by deep cracks in the surface. It had clearly been broken apart at one point. Certain sherds were still missing, but the rest had been meticulously pieced back together.

“What’s that?”

Solas glanced up, his expression shifting slightly as he noted where she was pointing. “Ah.” He looked down again, focused on his cutting board as he gathered a handful of herbs. “That orb was once an object of power. One of the elvhen foci of old.”

“You mean… it’s one of _the_ orbs?” she stressed, her eyes widening as she studied it once more. “I’ve seen them in frescos but never… They were supposed to channel the power of the gods.”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know your history.” His eyes remained downcast as he began to chop. “Or, more accurately, your mythology.”

“I wonder which god this was supposed to belong to,” she murmured thoughtfully, her head tilting. She pushed up onto her toes slightly, trying to get a closer look. “I assume it doesn’t have any sort of identifying marks? No inscription, that sort of thing?”

“Nothing modern archaeology can recognize,” he muttered.

“How in the world did you end up with an elvhen orb?”

“I stumbled across it quite by accident,” he explained. “I acquired it from a private collector a few years ago.”

“I didn’t know anyone had ever found one,” Isii exclaimed. “How come this never made the news?”

“I don’t believe the owner had any concept of what he possessed,” Solas said calmly. “I have done my best to piece together the history of the object. The Wardens have records of an elven artifact meeting this description resurfacing in the late Dragon Age. They seemed… quite concerned about the power it contained. It was still intact, then,” he added quietly.

“That must have been incredible,” Isii said, biting her lip. “Gods, I would kill to be able to study one of these in its original state.” Solas responded with a halfhearted hum. “Any idea what happened to it?”

“It was shattered,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his tone. The thud of his knife striking the cutting board grew louder, more forceful. “Due to carelessness, I can only assume. The hubris of whoever intended to use it catching up with them.” He scowled. “The attempts at restoration you see there are merely cosmetic. Someone must have found the pieces later. Reassembled it in order to sell it as a novelty, some oddity, as though it were some simple piece of ancient pottery to sit on someone’s shelf and be gawked at. But it can never be what it once was. Whatever purpose it was meant to fulfill, it is now nothing more than a very expensive paperweight.” He paused his assault on the greenery, setting the knife aside with a slow breath. “Still, it has sentimental value to me.”

Isii frowned, confused by the sudden turn in his mood. “Why is that?”

“It is a representation of what has been lost,” he said quietly. “You can dig up the pieces and put them back together again - but you will never be able to restore it to its former glory. One does not get second chances. It is foolish to believe otherwise. That is a lesson I have had to learn the hard way, unfortunately.” His eyes lifted, meeting her own before he shook his head, beginning to plate their food. “I’ve said too much.”

“Solas-”

“Forgive my melancholy,” he added quickly. “It is inappropriate for what I intend to be a romantic evening together. I have… had much on my mind, lately.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked softly, pacing back toward the kitchen.

“It is nothing to concern yourself with,” he said, his expression pulled into a forced neutrality as he methodically portioned their food. “I have simply uncovered something recently that troubles me. It has reminded me of certain personal failings that I would rather not dwell upon.”

Isii stepped around the counter, carefully brushing her hand against his cheek and he paused, his eyes closing as he focused on the heat of her palm. “Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered.

“No.” He let out a controlled breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “But I appreciate your willingness to listen.” He took her hand in his own, pausing briefly to press a kiss onto her palm before forcing an apologetic smile onto his lips. He picked up the plates, carrying them to the modestly-sized dining table. “Come,” he urged her, “sit. Let us move onto another topic.”

Isii joined him, sitting as he finished setting their meal. His demeanor seemed somewhat disingenuous, yet he smiled, slipping himself into his chair. “Do you have plans this week? Anything of interest?”

Isii scoffed. “This week is going to kill me,” she joked, gathering a forkful of food. The bird was cooked to perfection, the meat falling from the bone at the slightest provocation. The sauce it was cooked in was difficult to describe; creamy and yet bright, warm spices mixing with notes of citrus and possibly… apples? Pears?

She couldn't say for certain. It didn't taste like anything she'd had before, but it was delicious.

“Gods, Solas.”

“Do you like it?” he asked a bit too eagerly, seemingly pleased as she quickly prepared another bite.

“It's divine,” she beamed.

“I am glad to hear it.” His expression warmed, softening as he began to eat. “So, this coming week. I take it by your response that you will be busy?”

“My Keeper and a whole slew of other Dalish leaders are flying in on Monday,” she explained. “I’m going to have to play host while they’re here. Take them around the city, make sure they know their way around, that sort of thing.” She took another bite, chewing. “One reason to be thankful for my tiny apartment. If I had a place like this, chances are Deshanna would have had everyone camping out in my living room.”

Solas took a sip of his wine. “Does this have to do with the rather vague clan business you keep being tasked with?"

She hummed in affirmation, nodding as she swallowed another bite. “Oh, and I’ve got an appointment tomorrow afternoon that I’m absolutely dreading.” She picked up her knife, carefully cutting into the meat on her plate. “Security checkups for the Conference. Which means I have to sit in a room with a Templar and act like I’m not internally screaming the whole time. I’m going to have to tell him point blank that there won’t be any mages in my party. Which of course is a bold faced lie. The group is almost entirely made up of Keepers and Firsts. Of course there are going to be apostates there, me included.”

By the time she lifted her gaze again, Solas had gone completely still, staring back at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “Why would you be attending the Conference?”

Isii let out a small huff of a laugh, her brows lifting. “What do you think I’ve been working on this whole time?” she asked, reaching for her glass. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before now.”

“No,” he said firmly, his tone lowering. “You have not.”

She swallowed, frowning. “You know the Dalish are sending representatives to the Conference, right? It was on the news…”

“I did,” he said. “But that was not reason enough for me to assume you would be one of them.”

“Why are you…” She paused, studying his features. “Are you angry with me?”

“I do not appreciate the fact that I am only hearing about this now.”

“It’s not like I’ve been keeping it from you, “ she defended. “It just never came up.”

“Never came up?” he asked sharply. “In all the times you’ve sat in my shop on your laptop, working on something for your clan-”

“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not exactly the biggest fan of the Dalish. If you had asked, I would have told you, but you never did.” She stopped, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you getting so upset about this?”

“You do realize that the Conference is a farce, do you not?” he asked. “The Dalish are deluding themselves if they think otherwise. The humans do not want to support them. Celene only permitted your people a seat at the table so she can look as though she supports elven advancement without actually having to change any of her policies. It is not the first time she has taken such measures, nor will it be the last.”

“It’s a first step, Solas.”

“A first step consisting of little more than being a prop for someone else’s agenda.”

“I don’t give a shit about what Celene’s agenda is. Why would we ever expect support from Orlais when they’re the very reason the Empire of the Dales fell in the first place?”

“Ancient history, by this point,” Solas said. “The Dalish of today are merely a shadow of the Dalish of old, who in turn were only a mimicry of the Elvhen. You have no more in common with the old elves of the Dales than I do.”

“The point is,” she said, clenching her jaw, “Celene isn’t the only one who is going to be there. We aren’t reaching out to Orlais. We’re using the podium we’ve been given in order to address the leadership of Thedas. To make them think. To make them pay attention to us, even for a few minutes.”

“And what do you think that is going to accomplish, exactly?” he asked. “The humans will hear of your plight and do nothing, as they have repeatedly done for centuries. The Dalish chose to distance themselves from the rest of the world hundreds of years ago. Reversing that history won’t happen simply because you wish it were so.”

“Could you try not be an asshole about this?” she asked, her fork clanging against her plate as she put it down. Solas paused, staring back at her. “This is something I’ve worked really hard for. I’ve been chosen to represent my people and that is an honor that I am not going to turn my back on. I’m not naive enough to think that the Conference will be some miracle cure to solve all of our problems, but it’s still important to me.”

Solas lowered his gaze. “I…” He stopped, shaking his head, starting again. “Ir abelas, vhenan. I am just… I am concerned about the Conference. The political climate being what it is, I am not fully convinced that it will be safe.”

Isii studied him from across the table. “Is that what this is about?” she asked, her expression softening. “Solas, I’m going to be among some of the highest ranking officials in Thedas. Security there is going to be tighter than anything.” He stared at his plate, distractedly shifting his food, his mind clearly elsewhere. “Nothing is going to happen to me.”

Solas stared back at her, his face heavy with concern. Yet she could tell he was contemplating something, trying to work some problem out in his head as he watched her. “I hope you are right,” he said solemnly.

***

Isii stretched, half-awake, her eyes still closed as her hands slid beneath the bedsheets. She didn’t find the warm body she was seeking. The empty space beside her was cool to the touch.

She blinked, a confused frown creasing her brow as she looked around the unfamiliar room, taking a moment to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. Solas’s bedroom greeted her silently. The clothes she’d discarded onto his floor were neatly folded onto the bench by the foot of the bed, her overnight bag resting beside it. His own clothing was missing, likely tossed into the hamper by his dresser.

She groped for her phone, peering at the time. 10 AM. She had to get ready to leave.

Isii slid out from beneath the covers, rummaging through her bag for a fresh set of clothing, replaying the previous night as she got dressed. There was no denying that something had been bothering Solas last night. Even after apologies soothed the heat of their argument, he still seemed out of sorts, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. He was tense. Distracted. His moments of levity couldn’t help but feel a bit forced.

She spent the night there, as she originally planned. But even being taken to bed by him felt different in a way she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Normally their sex was something ecstatic, fun, playful. But instead, he’d been slower. A little more gentle. When he whispered _ar lath ma_ it sounded like it meant something else, bearing a subtext she didn’t understand.

Maybe he just felt bad about the argument.

Perhaps that was it.

Isii padded out of the bedroom, hoping he was feeling better this morning, though the silence in the apartment was starting to concern her. She heard no movement. No shuffling. No shower running, no tv or radio, no sounds of breakfast being made. When she walked into the main body of the apartment, she didn’t see any sign of him.

“Solas?”

“He’s not here.”

Isii jumped at the unexpected sound of Cole’s voice, turning quickly to see him sitting on the edge of the loft, his feet dangling beneath him. “Creators, Cole, you frightened me.”

His face dropped with regret. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his body suddenly shifting within the blink of an eye, so quick that Isii startled again as the spirit manifested directly in front of her. “I don’t want to be scary.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Solas lets me stay here, sometimes,” Cole said, his eyes scanning the room. “And the shop. And the other places he’s lived. I like to watch him because he sees me. He understands.” He held out his hand, a folded piece of paper clutched in his palm. “He wanted me to give you this.”

Isii frowned, taking the small parcel from him. The note was wrapped around something stiff, so she unfolded it carefully, pulling out the key hidden inside.

_Isii,_

_I am sorry that I am not there to greet you. Unfortunately I had to leave quite early this morning. You were sleeping so peacefully that it felt wrong to wake you._

_You may stay as long as you like. You are welcome to anything in my kitchen, should you want breakfast. I have stocked my cupboard with a selection of teas that I thought you might enjoy._

_As much as it pleases me to think that I could return home and find you there waiting for me, I know you have your own obligations to attend to. I have left the spare key to my apartment so that you may lock up when you go. The key is yours to keep. You are welcome to use it whenever you see fit._

_I am sorry, again, for my behavior last night. It was unfair of me. You are not the source of what is troubling me, nor should you bear the weight of my private concerns. I want to support you in your endeavors, whatever they may be._

_Ar lath ma,_

_Solas_

The key felt strangely heavy in her hand.

She’d never had a lover who’d given her a key to their place. Her past relationships were always too casual for that. And the idea of him giving her a key to his apartment, inviting her to make herself at home after having spent a single night there felt like it might carry more importance than a little gesture like this should. Like their relationship was moving into some other phase.

Isii shook her head. She was overthinking it. It was just a key. She needed a key in order to lock his front door when she left. Simple as that.

“It’s important to him, too,” Cole said as she slipped it into her pocket.

“What is?” she asked distractedly as she walked back toward the bedroom. If Solas wasn’t there, it made sense for her to simply gather her things and go.

“The key,” he explained, following close behind. “Solas doesn’t let anyone else in here except me. He worried it would be too soon, but he wanted you to have it. He likes the idea of you being here.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No,” Cole admitted, watching from the doorway as she reached into her overnight bag. “Not in words. But he felt it.” He followed her as she moved into the master bath, toothbrush in hand, lingering by the threshold as she brushed her teeth. In all honesty, it was somewhat difficult for Isii to get used to Cole. She’d had a number of interactions with him in the shop, but the fact that he could see into her thoughts still left her slightly unnerved. Solas tried to reassure her that he was not intentionally being invasive. It was simply part of his nature. Cole could no less stop sensing her emotions than she could simply will herself into temporary deafness. She could try to disregard the things she heard, but she would still hear the indistinct noise all the same.

She tried to keep her thoughts as quiet as possible around Cole, but so far she wasn’t sure that her efforts were working at all.

“Are you really going back to the Dalish?”

She glanced at him through the mirror, frowning slightly as she rinsed toothpaste from her mouth. “Where did that question come from?”

“Solas was thinking about that this morning,” Cole said. “That you were going to leave. That maybe it was good for both of you if you did.”

Isii stilled, her frown deepening. “He said that?”

“Not out loud.”

“But he thought it.”

Cole nodded.

Isii felt her stomach sink. “Did he say… Do you know why?”

“He thinks you would be happier. Your people are important to you,” he explained. “But it hurt to think about it. An empty chair. A cold bed. Returning to routine that would have a hollow space that wasn’t there before.”

“That’s…” Her words drifted away from her as her gaze fell. The idea that Solas thought he couldn’t make her happy troubled her. Was there a reason, or was it merely self-doubt spurned on by their circumstances? After all, they both knew she was a First. She hadn’t made any promises to him about leaving her clan permanently. Was he worried that she wouldn’t choose him in the end? Maybe thinking they were both better off was just a way to shield himself from what he saw as an impending rejection.

She knew it was selfish, but she continued to desperately put off having to think about it. She didn’t know if she truly wanted to go back to the quiet isolation of clan life and yet the thought of cutting all ties with her people didn’t sit well with her. At the same time, her feelings for Solas were growing at an alarming rate. They’d only been together for a short time and yet the thought of leaving him made her chest ache.

Isii closed her eyes. Now was not the time to think about this. She needed to make it through this week. She needed to make it through the Conference. Afterwards, they would have a chance to sit down and talk this out. Maybe then she could come to some sort of decision.

But that wasn’t going to happen today.


	27. Old Acquaintances

“Sounds like things are becoming awfully serious.”

Isii avoided Dorian’s gaze as she cupped her drink between her hands, blowing across the surface of her tea. “It’s just a key,” she said.

The corner of his lips quirked. “First, it’s a key. Then a drawer. Then before you know it, you’re moving in with the man.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Merrill said, curling her legs into the corner of the cafe’s couch. “You’ve only known each other for a few months and he’s already wanting to make space for you in his life. It’s sweet, really, when you think about it.”

“Sounds a bit too good to be true,” Dorian said.

Isii laughed unconvincingly. “I thought this was supposed to be a friendly coffee date. Not an excuse to grill me about my love life.”

“What do you expect?” Dorian asked, his brows lifting. “I’ve hardly seen you in weeks because of that man. Consider it a bit of brotherly concern from the brother you never had nor probably wanted.”

Isii couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at her mouth. “You haven’t seen me in weeks because you’re busy with your own relationship, Dorian. Bull seems to think things are going well...”

“I’m certain I have no idea what you mean,” he said, brushing his hand nonchalantly through the air. “And don’t change the subject. We’re talking about the object of your affection going from being completely non-committal to suddenly spreading out the welcome mat for you. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“I’ll admit, it’s moving really fast,” Isii murmured. “I can’t explain it. We just… _click_. We share the same interests. We can talk for hours and never run out of things to say. All clues point to him being shockingly rich and.. well… the sex is mindblowing, if I’m going to be perfectly honest.”

“I’m not exactly eager to hear the intimates of what goes on in your bedroom,” Dorian said. “I have met the man, after all. Believe me, there are some people were you simply don’t want to imagine what they’re like between the sheets.”

“The point is,” Isii continued, mildly annoyed, “he’s practically perfect. He’s, like, ideal long term relationship material. Which is kind of freaking me out.”

“Wait,” Merrill began, frowning. “Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, you wouldn’t want him to be a bad boyfriend, would you?”

“No,” Dorian answered for her, “but it means she can’t find some excuse to skip out before things get serious.”

Isii glared. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dorian.”

“You can’t say that I’m wrong.” Dorian began to count off on his fingers. “You did that with Sorand, Joscen, Vesa and… oh, what was her name? Short. City Elf. Big glasses. Worked in the library…”

“Lihra?” Merrill offered.

“That’s the one,” Dorian said with a snap of his fingers. “And that’s just since I met you freshman year, Isii. Every time someone starts to get a bit more than just moon eyed with you, you find a reason to break it off.”

“That’s not…” Isii began to defend herself before sighing, scrubbing her brow with her hand, groaning.

“I know,” Dorian said in mock sympathy. “You hate it when I’m right.”

“I wasn’t _dating_ them,” she defended. “We were just… spending time together. All parties involved knew that there were no strings attached.”

“Precisely,” Dorian pressed. “Which is why I find it so odd that this Solas fellow seems to have gotten you so invested so quickly.” The man took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “There must be some sort of catch. Something that makes Mr. Perfect a bit less-so.” His moustache curled around the smirking twist of his lips. “Maybe he has some sort of secret sex dungeon hidden away somewhere.”

Isii nearly spat out her drink as Merrill gasped. “No! You don’t really think so, do you?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Isii sputtered, laughing.

His grin broadened. “What?” he asked in mock innocence, his hand pressed to his chest. “It’s not so uncommon for a wealthy gentleman to have a long list of deviant indulgences at his beck and call.”

“Maybe in Tevinter,” Merrill offered.

He shrugged. “I can’t argue with you there.”

“But you really like him, then?” Merrill asked. Isii nodded. “Well… what are you going to tell your Keeper?”

“That’s the thing,” Isii began hesitantly. “I… I don’t know what to tell her. Or if I should tell her.”

“Well it might be worth mentioning, considering the woman is currently trying to marry you off,” Dorian said. “Speaking of, have you heard from your Dalish intended?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Isii said. “He’s not my fiance or my betrothed or whatever you want to call it. We’re just… being set up.”

“For marriage.”

“It’s like a really advanced blind date,” Isii insisted, “with no official commitments made. My Keeper just wanted me to _consider_ the _possibility_ that I _could_ marry him if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

“Does he know that?” Merrill asked.

“Yeah,” Isii sighed. “Vir and I have talked a few times since I came back. A couple phone calls. A handful of emails. He was really eager to have me make a trip out to the Dales so I could meet with his clan, but… I didn’t want to lead him on. He’s a good guy, but I’m dating someone else.”

“Did you tell him that?” Merrill asked.

Isii bit her lip. “Not exactly.”

“Let me guess,” Dorian said, leaning back in his seat. “You gave him a proper ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, but left everything remarkably vague?”

Isii hung her head. “Something like that.”

“Isii…” Merrill began hesitantly. “I know I might not be the best at dealing with this sort of thing… but you know you can’t keep putting this stuff off and hoping that things will be sorted later on.” She nervously fidgeted with her cup, her thumb picking at the rim of the lid. “What I mean to say is… Would it really be so horrible if you stayed here?”

“You of all people know I have a responsibility-”

“-to be the Keeper, yes we know,” Dorian finished for her. “And I had a duty to my family to get married off to some woman, produce hundreds of spoiled little brats and inherit my father’s place in the Magisterium. And yet, I’m here,” he finished with a flourish of his arms.

“That’s different,” Isii objected.

“Is it?” he pressed. “I am where I am today all in the pursuit of being true to myself. To my needs. Do you even want to go back to your clan? You always talk of it like it’s some burden. Maybe being Keeper was something you wanted when you were fourteen and daydreaming about your future, but you’re not a child anymore. You have a life here. One you seem to quite enjoy.”

“I’m honestly glad I am no longer a First,” Merrill admitted. “I would have been absolute rubbish as a Keeper. That and no one in my clan particularly liked me,” she muttered, lifting her drink to her lips. “That would have put a bit of a damper on things, now wouldn’t it?” She took a sip, shaking her head. “I miss them, though. There are days when I wish I could go back. So even though it was the right choice for me… I just want you to be careful, lethallan.”

“No, you’re right,” Isii said, nodding. “If I decide to leave, I’m doing it for me. Not for him. Or anyone else, for that matter.” She took a breath, leaning her head back. “But I would be lying if I said Solas doesn’t make the idea a lot more tempting.”

The group barely registered the sound of the bell jangling as it was knocked by the cafe’s door - though the sudden burst of wintery air made Merrill instinctively huddle deeper into her curled up position. “You’re damn right you’re not leaving for him,” Dorian stressed. “Even if you end up happily trotting off into some sunset somewhere, it would be daft to pin your future on a relationship that’s still in the sickening puppy love stage - which you two most certainly are.”

“Dorian?”

The mage glanced over his shoulder to face the man who’d called his name. Isii didn’t recognize him; stubble peppered his jawline, his black hair cropped short. The skin around his eyes was slightly darkened, giving him a somewhat weary appearance despite the ever-widening smile that spread across his face as he stared down at Dorian. “I knew it was you!” he declared, beaming. “Kaffas! As many years as it’s been and I can still pick out your voice from a crowd.”

“Felix! You beautiful bastard!” Dorian was quick to rise from his seat, drawing the man into a hug as they both laughed, clapping each other on the back. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

“I would have told you,” he said. “I wasn’t supposed to tag along, but Father insisted. Said my health was in such a state he didn’t want me out of his sight.”

“Typical.” Dorian paused for a moment before leaning in, his voice lowering. “He is just overreacting as usual, yes?”

“I’m not about to keel over, if that’s what you’re asking,” Felix said with a chuckle. His eyes drifted over to the two Dalish women. “I’m sorry. I seem to have interrupted your conversation.”

Dorian gestured with a flourish. “Friends of mine. Isii and Merrill, respectively. Ladies, this handsome fellow is Felix Alexius.” He clapped Felix’s shoulder, grinning. “I assume Gereon is here for the Conference? Seems an odd choice that the Magisterium would send him.”

“He volunteered,” Felix said. “Insisted, more like it. I’m not truly certain how much choice they had in the matter.” His brow furrowed as he shook his head, his voice softening to a murmur. “I’m worried about him, Dorian. He’s changed a lot since you left.”

“Grief will do that to a man,” Dorian said, bowing his head respectfully. “My condolences, by the way. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for the funeral-”

“Say no more,” Felix said, lifting his hand. “I know why you didn’t come back. Mother would have understood.” He chewed at his lip hesitantly. “Speaking of which… Have you spoken to your father anytime recently?”

“I make a point not to,” Dorian said flatly.

“He’s… Well.” Felix rubbed at the back of his neck, looking apologetically at his friend. “The other Magisters were concerned about my father’s insistence on representing them in Val Royeaux. They… chose Magister Pavus to accompany him. Keep him in line.”

“I see,” Dorian said, his tone chilly. He glanced to the two elves, shaking his head. “Sorry, ladies,” he said. “Don’t mean to skip out early, but I think Felix and I should take some time to catch up.”

“Quite alright with me,” Isii said, glancing at her phone. “I should probably start heading out myself. The last thing I need right now is to piss off some Templar because I was late to my meeting.”

***

Isii tried to still her foot from tapping anxiously against the marble flooring as she sat, waiting, her eyes drifting about the room while simultaneously avoiding eye-contact with everyone else present.

 _Gods,_ she probably looked suspicious. _Calm down. Act normal._

She swore to herself that she’d never set foot in a Circle and yet there she was. It wasn’t exactly the prison she’d always envisioned. If anything, it reminded her of the University she worked in a few miles away. People moved about freely through the halls, mages and templars alike, many of whom engaged in small talk as they went about their day. The relaxed air conflicted sharply with the intense security measures being enforced outside. The entire campus was surrounded by an intimidating wall. The only way in and out was through a heavily guarded gate. She’d been searched before she was allowed in with a guest pass that she now clung to like a protective talisman, terrified of the less-than-rational thought that if she lost it, they wouldn’t let her leave.

The door to the waiting room opened, a heavy-set man tottering out, muttering something under his breath. The Templar managing the constant flow of appointments glanced down at her list, letting out a slow breath. “Number 26.”

Isii rose to her feet, adjusting her purse on her shoulder as the woman nodded her into the room.

_Deep breaths._

_Everything is fine._

_This is just a routine check-in because the Templars are part of the security for the Conference._

She stepped into the small office, freezing the moment she made eye-contact with the man behind the desk.

_Cullen. Cullen Fucking Rutherford._

_Shit._

Cullen stared back at her, his face awash in startled recognition before he regained his composure. He cleared his throat, lowering his gaze to the papers in front of him, his brow furrowing. “Have a seat,” he said curtly.

Isii slipped herself into the chair across from him, clutching her purse as she rested it against her lap. There was a placard with his name and rank on his desk. She knew he was a templar, but a Knight-Captain? That was news to her.

“Full name?” he asked, avoiding her gaze as he removed the cap from his pen, his eyes fixed on the form in front of him.

“Isi’i’vhenana Sashashirelana Lavellan.” He paused, his pen hovering over the paper, clearly uncertain how to spell it. “I could write it down if you-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, cutting her off. “Identification?”

“Oh, right.” She fumbled a bit fishing her wallet out of her purse, retrieving her ID card and holding it out to him. He barely even looked up as he took it from her. It was clear he was just as uncomfortable as she was.

Well, maybe not _just_ as uncomfortable. He wasn’t an apostate sitting across from the templar she completely blew off after one date.

He was silent as he copied down her information, leaving Isii with nothing to do but stew over how incredibly awkward this situation was. She hadn’t heard from him since the last voicemail he left on her phone. How many months ago was that? She never returned any of his calls. She hadn’t said a word to the man since he dropped her off at her apartment, probably babbling some cliched line about how she’d had a lovely evening. He’d been standing close, smiling down at her and she could have sworn he started to lean in but she ducked into the building before she had the chance to find out if he really was attempting to kiss her. The worst part was, he didn’t do anything wrong. He was cute and funny and sure, she didn’t exactly understand that she was agreeing to a date when he asked her out for coffee - but he’d been a perfect gentleman, all the same.

He was probably furious with her. She’d be pissed if someone ghosted her like that. But Cullen didn’t look angry. Just… frustrated. Maybe even a little sad.

 _Gods,_ she felt like such a shit.

“How have you been?” Isii regretted the question the second his eyes met her own. Cullen did not look happy. He looked back down at his form.

“You are the primary representative for the Dalish contingent, correct?”

_Ok. Message received. This is strictly business._

“Yes.”

He continued, reading directly off of the page. “Of those in your party, are there any mages who will be in attendance at the Conference?”

“No.”

Cullen looked up again, studying her for a moment and her stomach sank. Templars had a long history of distrusting the Dalish. It wasn’t a secret that they blatantly disregarded the Chantry and kept their mages hidden. He probably knew she was lying. _Gods,_ the fact that she cut off all contact didn’t make him suspicious, did it? His face offered no clues and she tried her best to keep her doubts from creeping into her expression as he looked down again, scribbling some sort of note onto the paper. He slid open a drawer, fishing out a series of laminated badges. “These will serve as your party’s identification during the proceedings,” he said, counting them out as he jotted down each of the serial numbers printed at the bottom. “You are required to have them at all times during the event. If you fail to produce them when asked, you may be escorted from the premises.”

“Understood,” Isii murmured, waiting until he handed her the badges along with her ID card.

“There are to be no weapons brought into the event,” he continued. “Expect to be searched before entry into any of the secured areas. Prohibited items will not only be confiscated but possession of harmful materials may lead to permanent dismissal.” Isii nodded. “The Opening Ceremony Gala will begin this Thursday at six o’clock precisely. It is recommended that you arrive an hour before in order to pass through the necessary screenings.”

“Not a problem,” she said. “Is there anything else?”

His lips pursed as if there was more he wanted to say before shaking his head. “That’s all that was needed,” he said flatly. “Enjoy the event.”

Isii took a slow breath as she pushed herself out of her seat. She was almost done. Another few minutes and she’d be out of the Circle and could breathe a little easier. Still, she lingered by the door to his office, her hand on the handle, hesitating. She worried her lip with her teeth before turning. “I’m sorry, Cullen,” she blurted out as he looked up. “For what it’s worth, I’m…” She faltered. “You didn’t…” She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t personal. Because it wasn’t. He’d been a good friend before she shut him out of her life. But she couldn’t think of anything she could say to possibly explain her behavior. She settled on repeating herself. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

He studied her for a time, his expression softening. His mouth opened but he hesitated, closing it again before looking back down at his desk. “That will be all, Miss Lavellan,” he murmured quietly.

Isii took the dismissal and walked out of the room.


	28. The Pieces Move Into Place

Solas could see the moment her eyes first fell on him, a sharp snap of light in the darkness as he approached, the faint flicker of catlike reflection cutting through the dimly lit alleyway. “Briala,” he greeted quietly, giving her a polite nod as he stepped closer. “I assume you have what was asked of you.”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were simply wasting my time, baker,” she said firmly through her thick Orlesian accent. Despite her tone, he thought he caught an odd glimmer in her eye, some look of satisfaction that gave him pause. “Or should I say, Banal’ras?” Solas said nothing, unflinching at the mention of his codename as she studied his features. Some piece of his thoughts must have slipped through his expression for her brows lifted, unimpressed. “Is it really that surprising that I would figure it out for myself? I should feel insulted.” She let her back rest against the worn brick wall behind her, arms crossing over her chest. “You never struck me as the sort who would have a middle-man anyway. And the fact that you wouldn’t send him to me directly was telling. You knew there was always a chance I would recognize your voice.”

“True,” he said simply. It was the only admission he would give, but it was confirmation enough. She continued her study of him, her head tilting.

“And yet you’d risk dropping the pretense in order to meet with me now. Which means you’re desperate.”

“Do you have what I asked for?” he pressed again.

“That depends,” she said tersely. “Do you have the money?”

Solas slipped his hand into the bag slung across his shoulders, pulling out an envelope, its edges bulging from its contents. He handed it over without a word, watching as she briefly thumbed through the cash, taking a silent tally before the package disappeared into the lining of her coat. When her hand returned, there was a thin plastic badge between her fingers, its metal clip reflecting the nearby street lamp’s light.

“It took weeks of work to secure one of these passes,” she said, making no attempt to hide the irritation in her tone. “A way for one of _my own_ people to get into the Conference unnoticed. And yet you act as though you can snap your fingers and suddenly have it for yourself at the last minute?”

“At no small cost,” he reasoned. “You agreed to the bargain.”

“I know what I said. And a deal is still a deal. But this,” she added, gesturing with the card still pinned between her fingertips. “This is the last deal we are going to make.”

Solas blinked, only a small indication of surprise. “I was not aware that access to the Conference meant that much to you.”

“It’s not just about the Conference,” she said. “Allow me to make myself perfectly clear. _My people do not work for you,”_ she said, her tone lowering. “You helped us investigate the shipments and I thank you for that. You’ve funded our operations, and I thank you for your contribution. But sending my people on some wild goose chase after some Tevinter nut job without explaining your reasoning, then acting as though we should simply hand over our own resources to you simply because you demanded them? That is a step too far.” She leveled him with a look - not anger and yet no less a gesture of intimidation, a power play, reasserting herself as his equal if not his superior. He could respect that, at least. “You can throw as much cash at us as you want, but I know you’re not giving me the whole story with whatever you found in that shipyard.”

“Did you find anything more about the Elder One?” He could read her thoughts across her face as the words left his mouth - a subtle sneer and a huffed breath. She had good reason to question his interest. How could he explain his concerns about the artifacts in a way that would seem believable? He had no intention of outing himself as an apostate to her - that would allow her far more leverage over him than he would permit - and so claiming to have such knowledge from the Fade wasn’t possible. All she knew was that he’d seen something that troubled him and it was imperative he find out as much as possible about the man behind the operation. That was as far as her understanding went and it clearly frustrated her. Briala may have dealt in secrets, but she had no patience when one was being kept from her so blatantly.

“Not much beyond what I’ve already told you,” she answered despite her displeasure. “Hard to separate rumor from truth. Best guess is they’re some sort of cult leader running a niche, underground group. Can’t even determine if they are a man or a woman, despite your assumptions. Sometimes they’re referred to as a Magister, though they don’t seem to have any actual legal right to that title. Same old rallying cry. They want to make Tevinter the glorious empire it once was. So far their reach doesn’t seem to stretch very deep into the political sphere - probably because, no matter how many assholes fill the seats of the Magisterium, none of them are really looking to repeat the less savory chapters of their history.”

Such political stirrings were nothing new - Solas had seen them crop up every few generations. New voices singing the same old song, eventually drowned out by their contemporaries who would rather forget the more despicable moments of their country’s past. Still, it did suggest a nationalistic motive - which made it harder to ignore the possibility that the Conference was a target and that the gathering of his artifacts had a more sinister purpose.

But what they hoped to achieve still eluded him. The artifacts were not a weapon. On their own, they could do no harm.

It was possible this was all just coincidence. It was possible that the artifacts weren’t there as part of some nefarious plot and that the Elder One’s involvement was nothing more than a minor player in Tevinter’s machinations trying to win the favor of various world leaders by presenting them with a grand gift of stolen elvhen goods.

The only way Solas could be certain was if he kept his eyes on the Conference directly. And that required a way past security.

He opened his palm, a demand in the shape of an offer. “The pass, please.” Briala’s eyes flicked over his face briefly before she handed over the badge. “If you insist on this being the end of our working relationship, so be it,” he said, tucking the item into his coat pocket. “I wish you the best of luck. Hopefully we can both continue to see to the betterment of elven livelihoods in our own separate ways.”

Her bark of laughter caught him off guard, his brow furrowing. “Do you really pretend that anything you have done has been for the betterment of our people?” she asked, looking up at him incredulously. “You only helped us when it was of use to you - whatever those motives are, I cannot tell. But in my line of work, that makes you unpredictable. Men like that are more of a threat than an asset. I doubt very much you care for anyone’s wellbeing but your own, Banal’ras. With perhaps the exception of your woman. Isii, isn’t it?”

He could not keep his expression from shifting, flinching just enough at the mention of her name to widen Briala’s smile. “Isii Lavellan. One of the Dalish representatives jumping into human politics, if I’m not mistaken. I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone in bed with the Dalish - quite literally, in fact,” she added with a wry shrug. “They’re willing to parade themselves about for the chance to secure their isolation while we fight to be accepted in the homes we’ve built among the humans. Do you not see that as a conflict of interest? Or do you like playing both sides while pretending to remain a neutral party?” Solas’s mouth opened before quickly closing again, his hesitation only solidifying her confident air as she crossed her arms once more. “You are not the only one who can gather information, _Solas._ ”

He tried to consciously keep from fidgeting. He had never used his name with Briala and had done his best to keep Isii as far away from this part of his life as possible, and yet his efforts had clearly not been enough. It had been foolish to come here, to meet with her directly. Of course she would have gathered information on the baker, the man he led her believe was his agent, the only link she had to finding out the true identity of her mysterious benefactor. Without confirmation, her suspicion that he and his agent were one and the same would remain simply that - a suspicion.

But simply by meeting with her tonight, he had handed her the information he had guarded so closely.

Briala raised a brow at his silence. “Do you think I am threatening you?” she asked. “As far as I know, you haven’t done anything to betray our trust. Consider this more as a gentle reminder - should you choose to start revealing any of my secrets, then I will start revealing some of yours. A fair enough trade, don’t you think?”

She didn’t wait for a reply as she casually strode from the alleyway, the soft scrape of her boots against the asphalt echoing in the late-night stillness of the city. “Something to keep in mind,” she added, not bothering to look back as she left him at their meeting place.

Solas took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He was not pleased by this turn of events, but Briala was not a vindictive woman. She would only use what she knew if she thought it would benefit her in some way. Future blackmail, possibly. If it came to that, he always had the option of disappearing. He’d done it before, time and time again.

Though vanishing would mean disappearing from this life altogether - and abandoning Isii in the process.

He pushed the thought aside, buttoning his coat and turning his collar up against the chill as he walked the few blocks back to his car.

At least he had what he came for.

***

Isii took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her fingers fidgeted nervously along the stem of the champagne flute she held between her hands. She thought the drink might steady her, but the bubbles seemed to churn in her stomach as she moved through the room. The Imperial Palace was an intimidating sight, antiquity and modernity weaving and merging throughout the architecture and decor. While the walls maintained the oversaturated flourishes and gilded touch of past ages, the ceiling had long since been replaced by a delicate glass encasement, the chandeliers creating shimmering reflections in its surface - like artificial stars dotting the open sky above them. It was as if the character of Val Royeaux itself had been condensed into one building - both old and new, ancient and progressive and forever opulent, no matter what century it was.

The hall was filled with unfamiliar faces, the room ringing with the soft lilting of string instruments trying desperately to compete with the endless din of voices. Servants moved through the crowd anonymously, masked and rarely speaking, barely given a second glance as they carried trays of food and drink to the various attendants.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so entirely out of place.

The dress she wore was gorgeous, immaculately tailored, but all she could focus on now was the wrongness of how it felt - how it shushed strangely against her legs as she moved, the waist cinched tighter than anything she’d worn in ages, leaving her feeling stiff-backed and standing at attention, unable to relax. She wasn’t certain where her group had wandered off to - though she wouldn’t be surprised if the other Dalish representatives were lingering close to one another, finding comfort in the familiarity of their own company. They were the only elves in attendance, after all - unless one counted the occasional pointed ear she spotted among the waitstaff. The majority of the room was filled with humans. Even the dwarven presence was limited, though it was clear the underground nations had sent a few ambassadors to participate in this grand display of diplomacy.

“Ah, Miss Lavellan!”

Isii turned towards the gentle trill of a woman’s voice, meeting an unfamiliar smile as an immaculately dressed Antivan extended her hand. “You must be Isi’i’vhenana,” she continued as Isii accepted the handshake; smooth, manicured fingers wrapping around her own. “Josephine Montilyet,” she added, introducing herself. “We’ve spoken over the phone… it is so nice to finally make your acquaintance in person.”

“Ah, yes,” Isii said, trying to press her lips into the most pleasant smile she could manage.

A second hand came to trap her, Lady Montilyet clasping her gently between both palms. “I am so pleased you accepted our invitation. It is an honor to finally have your people join our discourse as equals.” Isii wanted to point out that spending the better part of a year trying to elbow their way into the Conference didn’t exactly qualify as an open invitation, but she bit her tongue, simply widening her smile. “How are you finding the Gala?”

“It’s very…” Isii hesitated, trying to find a proper way to finish the sentence. “Nice,” she said, somewhat stiffly. _Gods,_ she needed something stronger than champagne.

If Lady Montilyet picked up on her discomfort, her smile didn’t display it. “I hope everything is in order for you and your companions. If there is anything I can do to make you feel welcome, do not hesitate to ask.” She gave a final squeeze of her hand before releasing it. “I do so look forward to hearing your proposal to the council.”

“I hope it proves convincing.” Isii swallowed thickly. There was so little time left to prepare and the reality that she’d soon be standing in front of a bunch of disinterested humans, trying to convince them to allow the Dalish some parcel of land to legally settle made her stomach tighten.

Josephine’s eyes darted behind Isii and her chin lifted, her smile shifting once more. “Ah, Magister Alexius. Magister Pavus. Good evening, gentlemen.”

Isii stiffened slightly at the name, turning to meet the two men who had approached her from behind. She did not need to be told which man was Halward Pavus. She could see the echo of his son in his wrinkled face and had to do her best not to outwardly scowl as Lady Montilyet proceeded to introduce her. “Have you made the acquaintance of Miss Isi’i’vhenana Lavellan?”

The other man - Alexius - barely gave her a second glance. Halward, to his credit, at least attempted a gesture of polite civility as he offered his hand. “I do not believe I have had the pleasure.”

Isii took his hand in a firm shake, doing her best not to crush it. “Magister Pavus. Your reputation precedes you.”

He seemed amused by that, glancing to his companion as the corner of his lips lifted. “I was unaware I had a reputation in Val Royeaux.”

“You don’t, to my knowledge,” she said, dropping his hand. “I’m a close friend of your son’s.”

She couldn’t help but take some pleasure in the way his smile faltered, a started twitch in his cheek as his eyes widened ever so slightly. Alexius chuckled into his wine glass. “It is a small world indeed,” he muttered under his breath.

Halward blinked, momentarily at a loss for words before nodding his head. “I had hoped to see Dorian while I was in town.” He paused, clearly waiting for a response that Isii did not give him, fixing him with a hard stare before he cleared his throat. “I hope you will send along my regards.”

Isii said nothing, her lips pursed tightly. She could at least take some comfort in the fact that Dorian was likely spending this evening getting wildly drunk with his friend Felix. From what he’d told her, Alexius had insisted on his son staying in their hotel room during the gala, rather than attending the event. Fortunately for them, it would offer a chance for the two old friends to make up for lost time.

Josephine shifted uncomfortably in the silence, eyeing the group before smiling broadly, trying to lighten the mood. “We greatly appreciate Tevinter’s gift to the Imperial Palace,” she said, waving her hand to one of the glowing globes that sat atop a nearby pedestal. Isii had spotted them, of course - oddly shaped orbs that hummed with green halos of light, lining the hall on either side. “Such beautiful offerings are a pleasant addition to Empress Celene’s private collection. Wherever did you obtain them?”

“I could ask the same thing,” Halward said dryly, eyeing Alexius. There was something unspoken in his tone, something low and disapproving. Was it not a joint offering?

“Our exploration into the mysteries of the ancients is a never-ending pursuit,” Alexius said over the rim of his glass. He took another large gulp, nearly draining half the drink in one go. “We are happy to share in the spoils if it pleases our hosts.”

“Interesting that Tevinter sees elven artifacts as something they can freely give away to Orlais,” Isii said pointedly, forcing a tight and altogether artificial smile. “Excuse me.” She turned and walked away before giving in to the urge to start an argument about the controversial nature of human ownership of her people’s history. While the opinion of two Magisters mattered little with regards to her people’s proposal, she had to be careful about the sort of reputation she built for herself here.

If she was going to play politics, she had to temper the urge to fight. Catch more flies with honey, and all that.

She emptied her glass in a quick swig, making her way across the hall.

She was going to need another drink.

***

Josephine Montilyet scrubbed her hand across her brow.

This night was far from a disaster - so far, things had been going rather smoothly - but she could never quite suppress the low, thrumming panic that everything would fall apart if she did not keep about a million plates spinning at once. She flitted between welcoming guests, smoothing over conflicts and managing the waitstaff to make certain a constant stream of food and drink was moving to replace what had already been consumed. The last task wasn’t progressing as swiftly as she’d hoped, so when she spotted a tray of champagne flutes that sat unattended, her eyes quickly searched for any idle hands nearby.

“You there, don’t just stand about,” she ordered, snapping to gain the attention of a masked waiter who loitered by a pillar, seeming more intent on watching the gala rather than doing his job. The elf turned his attention to her and she paused, second-guessing herself. “Apologies,” she said with a tired sigh. “That was rude of me.” She gestured to the tray. “If you would be so kind-”

“Of course,” he answered quietly, offering no objections as he carefully balanced it on an outstretched hand, taking a turn of the room.

The man moved wordlessly, saying nothing as he allowed various attendants to gradually lighten his load, his pale blue eyes scanning the room. This was a disguise Solas had donned before, countless times - the uniform changed and yet the effectiveness remained constant and reliable. The people around him paid far more attention to the drinks he was carrying than they would ever extend to the man bearing them. He could move relatively freely this way, offering him brief opportunities to study the artifacts lining the hall.

To most in attendance, they appeared to fade into the background, mere set dressing for the Conference’s Opening Gala. Those who did pay them any mind gawked like tourists in a museum, remarking on their appearance as though they were merely some artwork that bore no purpose greater than simple aesthetics.

Solas could feel a subtle tremor against his skin, a feeling so slight he might not have even noticed it were he not actively seeking it out. These artifacts were meant to be spread out over thousands of miles - not grouped together in a single room. Each tapped into the energy of the Veil directly, creating a feedback loop that stabilized the construct. Yet with so many of them together, each drawing from and pushing towards the Veil simultaneously - it was like feeling various tides warring within a single ocean. Still, the barrier remained stable. It was in no danger of dissolving or tearing, but it hummed against him like a bulb being fed the wrong amount of current.

Solas was so preoccupied by his thoughts that he paid little attention to the faces around him, letting them help themselves to thinning the collection of glasses on his tray. He wanted to interact with the artifacts, to see if they had been tampered with in any way - but how? He would have to be exceptionally subtle, lest his actions be seen as suspicious. He could not risk outing himself as a mage here - not with so many Templars aiding in securing the event.

“My my,” a low voice hummed to his right, “tis a most unexpected surprise.”

Solas’s eyes shifted, landing on a familiar face, a pair of darkened lips pulling into a smirk as Morrigan plucked a serving of champagne from his tray. He regarded her with a silent nod as she took a sip. “And what, pray tell, has brought you to wearing such a ridiculous costume?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

She laughed - a genuine flutter of mirth that was only slightly tinged with a bitter edge. “We both do our part to disappear into the crowd.”

“This is your idea of disappearing?” he asked, unimpressed as his eyes quickly flicked over her attire. Her dress was formal - a deep maroon that cinched at her throat, the backless bodice consisting of little more than two large panels that flanked a plunging neckline. The deep divide ended at her waist where the top met a floor length skirt.

She shrugged. “Serving as the Empress’s arcane advisor is a fitting role, is it not? Or would you prefer I sit in a shack in the Wilds for all eternity?” She took a slow sip of her drink, eyeing him. “Curious that we both find ourselves here. Our paths do cross so rarely now.”

Solas’s eyes narrowed. He had assured himself that he was the only one who knew how the artifacts worked - but that wasn’t entirely true.

He was one of two.

“This Elder One they speak of…”

Morrigan laughed brightly. “I know that face. Are you so quick to think it is me?” she asked, lifting a brow. “I am not certain if I should be flattered or offended.”

“It had not occurred to me until now - but the name would be fitting. And you do have a tendency to mettle.”

Her shoulders gave another small, dismissive tilt. “I nudge history with a far more delicate hand, certainly. No. I am not the puppeteer in this plot.”

“And yet you are aware of it?”

She smiled patiently. “I am aware of a great many things. This should not surprise you. Though, in truth, I only learned of these generous gifts from the Tevinter Embassy very recently. I have to say, they have piqued my interest.”

“You understand why I find it unnerving.”

“Indeed. It seems your tools are to be used against you once again, Wolf.” She smiled. “That wound must sting.”

He scowled. “I am not overly fond of you in this form,” he hissed under his breath. “This witch is a far worse influence than the last.”

The tenor of her laughter then sounded more familiar to his ears - more like the woman he once knew and not quite as biting as the human whose face and body she wore. “My mother raised me to be precisely what I am, Solas... despite some noteworthy setbacks. It is a strange thing to have a hand in crafting oneself - to be both parent and child. I would not recommend it.” Another pause, another drink, this one wrapped in a sigh. “It may not be ideal, but we cannot always get precisely what we want, Old Friend. A lesson you and I both know all too well.”

The gaze she cast across the room was one he recognized, a faint glimmer of the ancient being behind a face that was still as youthful as it had been when he’d first encountered Morrigan. She had only been an intended vessel, then - wholly herself and bitterly fearful of her mother. Yet Flemeth’s body had lived on well beyond its natural capacity and could only harbor Mythal’s soul for so long. To say that Morrigan was hesitant to assume her role would be an understatement. In the end, it wasn’t power or the promise of immortality that changed her heart. Her desires lay in the allure of true understanding - the centuries worth of knowledge that Mythal could offer her.

In a way, it had been a better merger than the one she’d had with Flemeth. Her former host had only fanned the flames of her rage, fixating on the drive for vengeance they both shared. For as much as their personalities grated upon one another, Solas could begrudgingly admit that Morrigan was a more level-headed host. She brought out more of Mythal’s intellectual demeanor and though she could be quick to anger, it did not possess the same cruel fire as before. She was Morrigan and Mythal in equal measure, neither one bearing dominance. She was simultaneously his oldest friend and the haughty child who once vexed him. Still vexed him, from time to time.

He joined her in scanning the crowd. “I do not have a good feeling about this.”

“Nor should you,” she said. “Though it is still possible that these humans merely wish to gawk at the unknown, blissfully unaware of the collection’s true function.” She tipped her glass to him, the corner of her lips tugging upward. “I suppose we shall both have to wait and see. I am very curious to know if this Elder One has something more interesting planned of the evening’s entertainment.”

“And if the worst comes-”

“Do not worry, da’fen,” she reassured him, lowering her voice as her eyes met his own. “The ages have not left me so jaded that I would stand by and do nothing. Besides,” she added, her smile widening. “It has been a very long time since I’ve had an excuse to stretch my wings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> da'fen - little wolf. A term of endearment.


End file.
